ORRESTER 


"  . 


"TOOK  A  FLEETING  LOOK  AT  HERSELF  IN  THE  LITTLE 
CRACKED  MIRROR" 


Rook's  Nest 


BY 

1ZOLA  L.  FORRESTER 

Author  of  "  The  Girls  of  Bonnie  Castle,"  etc. 


PHILADELPHIA 
GEORGE  W.  JACOBS  &  CO 

103-105  SOUTH  FIFTEENTH  STREET 


Copyright,   1901,  by 
GEORGE  W.  JACOBS  &  Co 


CONTENTS 


CHAP. 

I.  A  COUNCIL  OF  STATE        .... 

II.  THE  PKINCESS  COMES  TO  HEK  OWN     . 

III.  TIUNCES  IN  DISGUISE        .... 

IV.  THE  PALACE  OF  A  THOUSAND  DELIGHTS 
V.  THE  CIKCUS  QUEEN 

VI.  DAY  1  M: i ,.\ MS  AND  AIR  CASTLES  . 

VII.  THE  BLACK  PIRATE  SAILS 

VIII.  BREAD  AND  BERRIES     .... 

IX.  BILLIE  MANAGES  THINGS 

X.  THE  LION'S  CAVE 

XI.  ALL  HALLOWS'  EVE  .... 

XII.  Avis  TRIES  HEB  WINGS 

XIII.  A  GUEST  FROM  BOSTON    .... 

XIV.  BETTY  MORGAN,  EDITOR 

XV.  LETTERS 

XVI.  THE  THRESHOLD  OF  FAME    . 

XVII.  THE  CELLAR  SPOOK 

XVIII.  IN  THE  FOURTH  FLOOR  BACK 

XIX.  THE  PRINCESS'  TREASURE 

XX.  BETTY  ENTERS  THE  ARENA  . 

XXI.  KED  ROVER  TO  THE  RESCUE    . 

XXII.  THE  BIRDS  FLY  HOME 

XXIII.  FAIRY  TALES  COME  TRUE 


PAGE 

.       7 

20 

.  37 
58 

.     69 

89 

.  109 

124 
.  133 

151 
.  170 

187 
.  205 

214 
.  224 

228 
.  240 

252 
.  267 

280 
.  291 

307 
.  318 


21 29993 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

TOOK    A    FLEETING    LOOK  AT    HERSELF   IN  THE 

LITTLE  CRACKED  MIRROR    ....  Frontispiece 
"THE  UNICORN  WOULDN'T  RUN  IF  YOU  SHOT 

OFF   FIREWORKS  UNDER  HIM."     .  .  .        Page       81 

THE  FRIGHTENED  RUNAWAYS  .  .  .  .  "  164 
THE  PRECIOUS  MANUSCRIPT  LAY  BESIDE  HER.  "  216 
HER  HEAD  ERECT,  HER  AIR  RESOLUTE  AND 

DEFIANT  "        298 


Rook's    Nest 


CHAPTER  I 

A  Council  of  State 

THERE  was  no  doubt  about  it ;  the  crisis  had 
coine. 

Avis  caught  the  solemn  gaze  of  Muggins'  brown 
eyes  fixed  on  her,  all  during  dinner-time,  and  she 
knew  that  the  moment  had  arrived  when  some  one 
must  speak. 

"Girls  and  Billie,"  Muggins  began,  when  Molly 
had  left  the  room,  "  I  want  you  all  to  come  to  the 
schoolroom  after  dinner.  We  have  got  to  face 
the  future." 

This  unwonted  dignity  from  Muggins  sent  a 
thrill  of  excitement  around  the  dinner-table,  and  a 
dead  silence  reigned  until  the  time  came  when 
they  trooped  after  her  to  hold  the  council  for 
the  future  in  the  schoolroom. 

They  had  always  called  it  the  schoolroom,  be- 
cause, as  Billie  said,  it  was  the  very  last  thing  in 

7 


8  Rook's  Nset 

the  world  it  ought  to  have  been  called.  This  rule 
of  nomenclature  applied  splendidly  in  the  house 
of  Randall,  from  Muggins  down  to  the  Roaring 
Lion,  who,  by  every  law  of  reason,  not  to  mention 
baptism,  should  have  been  dubbed  plain  Marjorie 
and  Reginald.  But  then  it  made  it  so  much  more 
interesting  to  mix  things  up,  they  all  agreed ;  so 
the  schoolroom  it  had  been,  just  because  it  was  a 
place  where  discipline  was  unknown,  where  each 
had  a  pet  corner  of  his  own  in  which  he  could  do 
exactly  as  he  pleased. 

The  broad  bay  window  with  its  row  of  flower- 
pots and  hanging  vines  was  Muggins',  and  she 
fostered  all  kinds  of  growing  things  there,  from 
prize  beauties  to  little  straggly  plants,  precious 
only  because  they  were  green  and  alive,  and  re- 
paid her  care. 

A  wondrous  paradise  was  this  window  wilder- 
ness to  the  two  canaries,  Hop  Sing  and  Cripple, — 
a  paradise  of  sunshine,  and  a  happy  hunting- 
ground  of  insect  tidbits  in  which  their  greedy 
little  hearts  delighted.  Even  they  could  do  just 
as  they  pleased,  too,  and  Billie  said  that  was  the 
whole  secret  of  happiness.  "  Every  one  does  as  he 
pleases,  so  long  as  it  doesn't  hurt  the  next  fellow's 
fun,  and  if  you  can  help  the  next  fellow  to  have 
more  fun,  why,  go  ahead  and  help  like  sixty.' 

Behind  the  Japanese  screen  with  its  fire-spout- 


A  Council  of  State  9 

in^r  dragons,  and  slant-eyed,  waddling  ladies, 
Billie  kept  a  host  of  treasures.  Only  the  Lamb 
knew  positively  all  its  secrets,  and  she  never  told. 

One  day  after  infinite  labor  and  danger,  not 
only  to  his  own  precious  anatomy,  but  also  to  the 
Owl's  back,  the  Bearing  Lion  had  valorously 
climlxnl  to  the  top  of  the  screen  and  stolen  a  peep 
at  the  hidden  chamber ;  but  all  he  saw  was  "  bugth 
on  pinth,"  as  he  told  the  Owl,  scornfully,  which 
opinion  simply  goes  to  prove  that  the  only  ap- 
preciative mind  in  the  whole  menagerie  was  the 
Lamb's. 

Then  the  piano  and  the  low,  stout,  bookcase,  and 
the  rosewood  desk  that  had  been  her  mother's, 
belonged  to  Avis ;  "  her  royal  highness,"  Billie 
called  her,  because,  he  said,  "  she  puts  on  airs." 
The  corner  which  held  these  articles  was  the  only 
place  of  unquestioned  ownership  in  the  whole 
schoolroom,  for  the  menagerie  held  firmly  to  the 
doctrine  of  squatter  rights  and  spread  their  goods 
and  chattels  about  with  a  serene  disregard  for  law 
and  order. 

The  spring  sunlight  shone  cheerily  into  the 
long  room  and  touched  Muggins'  brown  hair  to  a 
ruddy  bronze  as  she  stood  beside  the  piano,  look- 
ing slim  and  girlish  in  her  black  dress,  in  spite  of 
her  seventeen  years. 

Avis,  but  a  year  younger,  had  crossed  to  the 


io  Rook's  Nest 

window  and  was  looking  dreamily  out,  her  nose 
pressed  against  the  pane,  her  fair  hair  falling  be- 
low her  waist  in  two  long  braids,  her  hand  resting 
on  the  back  of  the  willow  rocking-chair. 

The  children  knew  of  what  she  was  thinking, 
and  their  faces  were  very  sober.  The  willow 
chair  had  always  been  the  favorite  seat  of  the  dear 
mother  who  had  left  them  but  recently,  and  some 
way  her  presence  was  so  closely  associated  with 
it  that  now  it  lent  a  strength  to  the  conference  as 
if  she  herself  were  smiling  on  them  as  of  old. 

Billie  was  sitting  cross-legged  on  the  floor, 
looking  like  a  round-faced,  jolly  Chinese  idol, 
with  the  menagerie  grouped  around  as  attendant 
cherubs. 

Dora  was  the  Lamb,  and  if  ever  there  was  a 
cub  wolf  dancing  about  in  the  fleece  of  an  inno- 
cent lambkin,  it  was  this  same  freckled,  brown 
eyed  rogue  of  eleven.  She  was  a  second  edition 
of  Billie  and  his  trusted  confidant.  He  declared 
that  she  was  "  an  out  and  out  brick,'*  which  was  the 
highest  meed  of  praise  he  ever  bestowed.  Only 
three  had  ever  been  deemed  worthy  to  bear  it,  his 
mother,  Muggins,  and  the  Lamb.  The  rest  of  the 
world,  without  respect  to  persons,  was  classed  as 
"duffers,"  and  that  meant  more  than  words  can 
tell  to  Billie. 

The  Owl  was  Winifred,  aged  nine,  and  the  look 


A  Council  of  State  n 

in  her  solemn  hazel  eyes  seemed  to  tell  of  a  secret 
wisdom  beyond  mortal  ken.  She  was  a  very  gen- 
tle, dignified  little  maid,  full  of  dreams  and  fancies 
like  Avis,  and  a  deep  tender  love  for  fairies  and 
beautiful  forlorn  princesses,  and  splendid  knights 
\\lio  wore  coal-black  plumes  and  killed  grittius 
and  various  other  monsters,  rescued  the  beautiful 
princesses,  and  made  them  less  forlorn.  Wini- 
fred's world  was  a  wonderful  world  of  make  be- 
lieve that  never  failed  her,  and  her  faithful  admirer 
was  the  Roaring  Lion. 

It  is  hard  to  tell  just  how  the  six-year-old  Lion 
looked.  He  wras  blue-eyed,  and  shy,  with  yellow 
curls  and  the  softest,  gentlest  voice  in  the  world, 
a  voice  that  might  have  come  from  Hop  Sing  or 
Cripple  if  one  of  them  had  suddenly  tried  to  talk ; 
but  Billie  had  named  him  the  Roaring  Lion,  and 
he  bore  the  title  without  a  murmur. 

Muggins  looked  at  Billie  when  she  spoke,  for 
he,  though  not  yet  fourteen,  was  the  man  of  the 
house  now,  and  must  be  impressed  with  the  grav- 
ity of  the  situation. 

"It  seems  queer  for  us  to  have  to  bother  our- 
selves about  such  a  thing  as  money,"  she  said, 
hesitatingly,  "but  matters  have  come  to  a  point 
now  where  we  must  face  the  question  boldly,  and 
do  something." 

She  paused.     Billie  nodded  his  head  encourag- 


12  Rook's  Nest 

ingly.  So  did  the  Lamb,  and  feeling  that  she  had 
sympathetic  support,  Muggins  went  on  bravely. 

"  Of  course,  you  all  know  that  we  are  pretty 
poor,  now.  The  money  that  papa  left  melted  away 
after  he  died,  and  when  mamma  was  taken  sick 
last  fall  she  had  to  mortgage  the  house.  We  have 
been  living  on  the  last  of  that  money  for  six  weeks, 
ever  since  mamma  went  away  from  us,  and  now, 
here  we  are.  I  have  about  ten  dollars  left,  and 
there  is  Molly  to  pay,  gas  bills,  coal  bills,  grocer 
bills,  butcher  bills,  the  interest  due  on  the  mort- 
gage "- 

"  Oh,  Marjorie,  don't !  "  exclaimed  Avis,  in  dis- 
tress, "  don't  worry  them  with  such  things." 

"  That's  all  right,  your  royal  highness,"  Billie 
broke  in,  with  a  wave  of  his  hand  in  her  direc- 
tion. "This  is  a  council  of  state,  not  just  for 
you  two  prime  ministers.  Fire  ahead,  Muggins. 
And  when  the  ten  dollars  are  gone  you'll  have  to 
play  Old  Mother  Hubbard, 

Old  Mother  Hubbard,  she  went  to  the  cupboard, 

To  get  her  poor  dog  a  bone ; 
But  when  she  got  there  the  cupboard  was  bare, 

And  so  the  poor  dog  had  none ! ' " 

"  Don't  be  funny  over  it,  Billie,  please,"  pleaded 
Muggins.  "We  are  really  in  serious  trouble. 
Here  are  six  of  us,  and  we  simply  cannot  go  on 


A  Council  of  State  13 

living  as  we  have  been  doing.  There  isn't  a  soul 
in  the  world  of  whom  we  can  ask  help." 

"  There  are  mamma's  folks,"  Dora  said,  impetu- 
ously, "  I  thought  they  were  all  so  rich." 

Avis  and  Marjorie  exchanged  quick  glances. 

"  Well,  so  they  are,"  Avis  responded ;  "  but  you 
know  how  angry  they  were  about  mamma's  marry- 
ing a  poor  man  like  papa,  because  they  didn't 
know  how  clever  he  was,  of  course.  After 
Grandma  Newell  died,  none  of  them  ever  wrote 
to  her,  and  if  they  could  be  so  cruel  to  her,  why, 
we  must  show  them  that  the  Randalls  are  too 
proud  to  ask  help  from  them  !  " 

"  Bravo !  "  cried  Billie.  "  Hoist  your  flags,  Ran- 
dalls, and  keep  step  to  the  music." 

"  And  as  for  papa's  people,"  Avis  went  on,  ig- 
noring his  nonsense,  "they  are  all  down  in  Dela- 
ware or  Maryland,  I  forget  which,  and  we  don't 
know  anything  about  any  of  them  except  Uncle 
Cherrington  Randall,  and  he's  dead  now.  So  here 
we  are — alone." 

There  was  a  long  silence.  The  Lion's  mouth 
quivered,  and  the  Owl  stifled  the  coming  roar 
in  her  hasty  embrace.  Avis'  blonde  head  was 
bent  over  the  rocker,  and  her  tears  fell  fast  on 
the  faded  blue  silk  head-rest.  Billie  looked  at 
Muggins,  his  head  on  one  side  like  an  anxious 
canary. 


14  Rook's  Nest 

"  Out  with  it,"  he  said,  finally.  "  What's  your 
scheme,  Marjorie  Cherrington  Randall  ?  " 

"  That's  just  the  key  to  the  whole  secret,"  cried 
Muggins,  eagerly.  "It's  about  Uncle  Cherring- 
ton. You  know  part  of  it,  anyway,  Billie.  Don't 
you  remember,  nearly  five  years  ago,  papa  had  a 
letter  from  uncle  ?  And  papa  told  us  that  he  was  ^/ 
the  queerest  old  bookworm,  and  cross  as  a  bear  yr 
but  he  was  my  fairy  godfather,  I  guess,  for  he 
wanted  to  adopt  me,  and  take  me  way  out  to 
Montana  or  some  outlandish  place  with  him.  I  was 
only  twelve  then,  and,  of  course,  mamma  would  not 
let  me  go.  So  he  went  alone,  and  died  out  there." 

"  I  know,"  Billie  said,  sagely,  "  and  we  thought 
the  jolly  old  duffer  was  rich,  and  he  never  left  us 
a  red  cent." 

"Yes,  but  still  he  made  me  his  heiress,"  went 
on  Muggins,  earnestly.  "  It  sounds  very  nice  and 
important,  but  all  in  the  world  he  left  was  a  little 
place  down  in  Illinois.  Papa  went  to  see  it,  and 
said  it  was  just  a  few  acres  of  land  with  a  tiny, 
rattletibang  sort  of  house  about  large  enough  for 
a  rook's  nest  and  only  fit  for  spiders  and  mice. 
But,  anyway,  whatever  it  is,  it's  our  very  own,  and 
the  only  thing  I  know  for  us  to  do  is  to  go  down 
to  my  kingdom.  When  papa  died,  he  made  Mr. 
Ellis,  his  lawyer,  our  guardian,  and  he  says  it  will 
be  the  best  thing  for  all  of  us." 


A  Council  of  State  15 

"Just  so,"  cried  Billie,  "Hurrah  for  Princess 
Muggins  and  the  halls  of  her  ancestors.  Is  there 
any  tiling  to  eat  down  there,  princess  ?  " 

Muggins  laughed. 

"  I'm  afraid  not,"  she  said,  with  a  glance  at  Avis' 
bowed  head.  "  We  shall  have  to  become  farmers." 

"  Oh,  but  Muggins,"  interposed  Dora,  anxiously, 
"  what  can  we  do  with  all  the  furniture  in  such  a 
funny  little  place,  and  where  shall  we  put  Molly  ?  " 

"  We  shall  have  to  do  with  them  what  Aladdin 
did  with  the  treasures  he  couldn't  carry  away,"  an- 
swered Muggins,  cheerfully.  "  Leave  them  behind." 

"  Oh,  why  ?  "  cried  a  chorus  of  dismay. 

"  Because !  "  she  said  firmly,  and  whenever  she 
said  that  word,  so  deep  and  mysterious  in  conjec- 
ture, the  children  knew  that  argument  was  hope- 
less. This  time,  however,  Avis  came  to  the  rescue. 

"  Everything  will  be  sold,"  she  explained,  "  ex- 
cept some  of  mamma's  things,  like  her  desk,  and 
this  chair,  and  Molly  must  go  because  we  cannot 
pay  her.  Now,  do  you  understand  ?  " 

Billie  nodded,  and  the  heads  of  the  menagerie 
bobbed  in  concert. 

"Do  say  something,  Billie,"  exclaimed  Avis. 
"You  are  the  man  of  the  house,  and  you  must  try 
to  1>t  s"iisible  and  helpful.  Muggins  and  I  can't 
do  it  all." 

Billie's  round  face  look*  d  solemn  and  anxious 


1 6  Rook's  Nest 

as  he  rose  slowly,  and  stood  with  his  hands 
clasped  behind  him ;  but  there  was  a  twinkle  of 
fun  in  his  blue  eyes. 

"  I  think  the  plan  is  all  right,"  he  said,  gravely. 
"We  can  harness  Reggie  to  the  plow  with  the 
Owl,  and  put  her  royal  highness  in  overalls  to 
look  after  the  crops,  and  Muggins  can  be  chief 
cook  and  bottle  washer.  Dora  and  I  will  attend 
to  the  cows  for  you,  and  make  the  butter.  We 
will  raise  peanuts  and  mince-meat " 

"Minth-meat  don't  gwow,  Bil-lee,"  put  in  the 
Lion,  rebukingly. 

"  Pardon,  f olkses.  I  take  that  back.  You  can 
settle  the  character  of  our  crops  yourself,  Avis. 
There  is  only  one  thing  I  want  to  know.  Please 
may  I  keep  my  bug  collection,  or  do  they  go  with 
the  rest  of  the  valuables  ?  " 

"  Well,  all  I  have  to  say,"  Marjorie  answered, 
severely,  "is  this.  If  you're  going  to  take  this 
matter  as  a  joke,  Master  William,  you'll  find  your- 
self greatly  mistaken.  Avis  and  I  have  talked  and 
talked  together  about  it,  night  after  night,  wh  m 
you  children  were  in  bed,  and  we  have  fixed  every- 
thing. Mr.  Bonner  is  coming  to-morrow  " 

"  Who's  Mr.  Bonner  ?  "  asked  Dora,  abruptly. 

"  He's  a — a — ,"  Muggins  floundered,  helplessly, 
and  looked  at  Avis,  who  responded  to  the  silent 
appeal  bravely. 


A  Council  of  State  17 

"Why,  Mr.  Bonner  is  &  man  who  looks  after 
furniture  and  things,  you  know  " 

"No,  ma'am,  we  don't  know,"  replied  Billie, 
firmly.  "That's  what  burglars  do.  As  man  of 
the  house  I  want  to  know  exactly  who  Mr.  Bonner 
is." 

"  Well,  then,"  answered  Muggins,  "  he  buys  sec- 
ond-hand furniture  and  pictures  and  pianos  for 
some  large  company.  It's  all  right,  Billie.  Mr. 
Ellis  told  us  to  go  to  him,  and  you  know  how 
mamma  trusted  Mr.  Ellis.  This  is  Monday ;  by 
Thursday  we  can  be  all  packed  up,  and  on  Friday 
we  will  go  to  East  Elmore  on  the  1.25  train,  get 
there  at  4.40,  and  be  at  the  Nest  in  time  for  supper. 
What  do  you  think  of  the  plan  ?  "  she  concluded, 
triumphantly. 

"  I  think  that  your  old  council  was  a  humbug," 
cried  Billie,  rising  in  his  wrathful  indignation. 
"You  two  had  the  whole  arrangement  cut  and 
dried  between  you,  and  only  wanted  to  show  off 
what  a  smart  pair  of  prime  ministers  you  are. 
Now,  you  can  go  right  ahead.  I  wash  my  hands 
of  the  whole  affair." 

"  And  so  do  I,"  echoed  Dora. 

"  And  I,"  chimed  in  Winifred. 

"Me  too,"  said  the  Lion. 

"  You  hear  the  voice  of  the  people  ?  Very  well. 
You  can  leave  us  entirely  out  of  all  your  hididdle 


1 8  Rook's  Nest 

plans.  Go  on  with  your  Bonners  and  trains,  and 
packing.  Only,  when  you  do  reach  your  old 
Hook's  Nest,  have  supper  for  six,  please.  We 
won't  be  out  of  that,  will  we,  polliwogs  ?  " 

"  No,  sirree !  "  came  a  fervent  chorus,  and  the 
whole  menagerie  formed  in  line,  Reggie  leading, 
with  Winnie's  hands  on  his  shoulders,  Dora's  on 
Winnie's,  and  Billie's  on  Dora's.  Then  wheeling 
about,  they  made  a  spirited  circuit  of  flie  room, 
and  marched  out  with  colors  flying. 

The  girls  watched  them  in  silence,  Avis  with  an 
anxious  frown,  Muggins  with  smiling  lips  and 
tearful  eyes.  When  the  door  had  closed  on 
Billie's  rosy  face  and  merry  eyes,  Avis  sat  down, 
and  laid  her  head  on  her  arms. 

"  Oh,  don't,  don't,  Avis,"  said  Marjorie,  her  face 
pressed  closely  to  the  other's  fair  hair.  "  It 
makes  it  so  hard  for  me  if  you  give  up,  dear. 
Everything  will  come  all  right,  I  know  it  will, 
only  we  must  brace  up,  as  Billie  says,  and  be 
strong  and  hopeful  for  their  sakes." 

"  Yes,  I  know,  I  know  it  all,"  replied  Avis, 
wearily,  raising  a  moist,  flushed  face,  and  pushing 
back  her  hair  from  her  forehead.  "  But  when  I 
think  of  how  dearly  mamma  loved  the  little  ones, 
and  of  what  a  life  we  are  taking  them  to,  it  nearly 
breaks  my  heart." 

"  But  |it  is  the  only  way,"  Muggins  said,  slip- 


A  Council  of  State  19 

ping  her  arm  lovingly  around  her  sister's  neck. 
"We  can  only  do  our  level  best,  and  Mr.  Ellis 
says  we  will  get  quite  a  little  money  from  the  sale, 
so  we  will  not  be  so  badly  off.  And  when  the 
time  comes,  Billie  will  be  sensible,  I  know  he  will" 

Just  then  Billie  appeared  at  the  side  window, 
waving  a  croquet  mallet  at  them  invitingly. 

"  Come  on  and  be  beaten,"  he  called.  "  Let's 
eat,  drink,  and  be  merry,  for  to-morrow  we  die,  if 
you  two  are  going  to  do  the  cooking  at  the  Nest 
Hashed  spiders,  and  mouse  fricassee !  Whew ! " 

Avis  laughed,  a  queer,  unsteady  laugh,  and  rose, 
wiping  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  yes,  Billie  '11  be  sensible,"  she  said. 
"  Hear  him." 

Muggins  shook  her  head  doubtfully. 

"  We'll  come,"  she  replied,  nodding  her  head  to 
Billie,  then  with  a  comical  look  of  mingled  mirth 
and  anxiety  in  her  brown  eyes.  "  The  council  of 
state  is  at  an  end." 


CHAPTER  H 
The  Princess  Comes  to  Her  Own. 

FROM  Monday  until  Thursday  was  the  busiest 
time  Marjorie  ever  went  through.  On  Tuesday 
Mr.  Bonner  came  with  a  note-book  and  a  lot  of 
little  tags,  and  the  girls  followed  him  wistfully 
about  while  he  placed  his  price  on  all  that  was  to 
be  sold. 

"When  they  reached  the  schoolroom  there  was  a 
woeful-faced  assembly  awaiting  their  coming. 
Billie  sat  before  the  screen  with  blood  in  his  eye. 
Woe  betide  the  man  who  invaded  his  treasure 
house  with  tags. 

Over  near  the  bay  window  sat  the  menagerie  in 
their  own  special  chairs  which  they  had  sat  in 
since  babyhood,  and  all  around  them,  heaped  high 
to  their  knees,  were  the  idols  of  their  hearts  which 
they  had  resolved  to  save  from  the  hand  of  the 
destroyer. 

A  cross-eyed  Japanese  doll  was  hugged  to  the 
Lion's  heart.  The  girls  disdained  dolls,  but  he 
had  love  to  spare  for  every  poor,  maimed  beauty 
they  discarded,  and  now  he  had  them  all,  little 

20 


The  Princess  Comes  to  Her  Own     21 

wild-eyed  penny  dolls  with  long  hair,  and  weak 
joints,  plump  bisque  darlings  in  silk  and  velvet, 
and  rubber  dolls  galore.  Especially  did  the 
Lion's  heart  warm  toward  the  rubber  dolls,  for  in 
moments  of  emergency  they  could  be  transformed 
into  the  handiest  weapons  of  war  imaginable,  and 
never  showed  the  scars  of  battle.  There  were 
rag  babies,  too,  brownies,  pickaninnies,  crazy  little 
cotton  pug  dogs  and  cats, — all,  all  were  there,  and 
the  Lion  meant  to  guard  them  with  his  life. 

Dora  had  Hop  Sing  and  Cripple  carefully  caged 
beside  her,  and  the  Owl  was  almost  hidden  behind 
her  stock  of  story  books,  while  on  each  side  rose 
all  sorts  and  conditions  of  boxes  and  bundles 
whose  wondrous  contents  no  man  knew. 

Avis  tried  not  to  laugh  when  she  saw  the  group, 
and  it  was  not  hard,  for  the  very  first  thing  that 
Mr.  Bonner  went  to  was  her  piano — the  dearly 
loved  piano  that  had  been  her  last  gift  from  her 
father,  and  of  course  that  must  go  with  the  rest, 
for  it  would  bring  more  money  than  anything  else. 

Marjorie  slipped  her  hand  comfortingly  into 
hers,  but  some  big  tears  rolled  rebelliously  from 
Avis'  eyes,  and  she  looked  away  when  he  put  on 
a  tag. 

"  What  else,  Miss  Randall  ?  "  he  asked,  briskly, 
glancing  around  the  room.  "That  rosewood 
desk?" 


22  Rook's  Nest 

"  Not  much ! "  exclaimed  Billie,  his  face  redden- 
ing. "  That  was  mamma's,  and  it's  Avis'  now, 
isn't  it,  Muggins  ?  " 

Marjorie  met  his  eyes  bravely.  She  knew  just 
how  he  felt,  in  fact,  she  felt  that  way  herself. 

"  The  desk  is  to  stay  with  us,  sir,"  she  said, 
firmly, 

"And  the  willow  chair?  Table?  Lounge? 
Screen  ?  That's  a  handsome  screen." 

"No,  sirree  bob."  Billie  looked  like  a  little 
fighting  bantam  as  he  strutted  from  his  seat  and 
faced  the  spoiler.  "  Those  are  all  to  stay.  Mug- 
gins," with  a  suspicious  solicitude,  "  you  want  to 
show  the  gentleman  that  nice  big  hat-rack  out  in 
the  hall.  There's  nothing  left  for  him  in  here." 

Muggins  flashed  him  a  grateful  glance,  and 
seized  on  the  hint  as  a  relief  from  her  perplexity. 
She  really  wanted  to  sell  all  she  could,  of  course, 
for  the  sake  of  the  money,  but  there  were  things 
in  the  dear  old  schoolroom  which  seemed  so  pre- 
ious  that  nothing  could  buy  them,  so  Mr.  Bonner 
took  his  leave.  After  the  door  had  closed,  the 
menagerie  rose  in  solemn  silence,  and  joining 
hands  with  Billie,  they  danced  a  wild  barbaric 
dance  from  the  Feejees,  over  the  downfall  of  the 
enemy. 

But  even  after  the  packing  was  started  in  ear- 
nest, and  everything  had  been  settled  about  the 


The  Princess  Comes  to  Her  Own     23 

furniture,  tears  were  the  order  of  the  day,  and 
skirmishes  were  frequent  between  the  menagerie 
and  the  packers,  Avis  and  Muggins. 

"  You're  the  moistest  lot  I  ever  saw,"  said  Billie, 
scornfully,  and  then  Dora  and  he  went  off  by  their 
"  lonelies "  to  lament  in  secret  over  the  sale  of 
their  white  rats  to  Tommy  Baxter,  next  door,  for 
a  dollar.  Billie  had  laid  the  money  beside  Mug- 
gins'  plate  carelessly,  and  only  the  Lamb  guessed 
the  sacrifice. 

Reggie  and  Winifred  were  the  dauntless  con- 
spirators, though.  In  the  schoolroom  stood  three 
packing  boxes,  and  alarums  and  excursions  were 
frequent  between  these  two  and  Marjorie.  She 
would  catch  them  stealing  in  with  treasures  to 
smuggle  into  the  boxes,  and  as  all  "  trash "  was 
strictly  forbidden,  the  paper  dolls,  marbles,  broken 
china,  ribbon  ends,  and  all  the  rest  were  promptly 
thrown  out,  and  the  Owl  and  the  Lion  wailed  in 
harmonious  unison. 

At  last  all  was  ready.  The  boxes  and  the  few 
pieces  of  cherished  furniture  which  they  had  saved 
had  gone  in  a  van  to  the  depot,  and  the  six  were 
marshaled  in  the  front  hall,  equipped  for  their 
journey.  Molly  had  gone  early  in  the  morning, 
with  many  a  kiss  for  her  "darlints,"  and  each 
room  in  the  house  had  been  visited  and  been  given 
a  fond  teary  farewell, 


24  Rook's  Nest 

Mr.  Ellis,  the  old,  kindly  faced  lawyer,  liad  vol- 
unteered to  see  them  safely  to  the  depot,  and  be- 
fore the  train  started,  he  took  Marjorie's  hand  and 
gave  it  a  hearty  clasp. 

"  Be  brave,  little  girl,"  he  said,  gently,  "  and  if 
you  need  help,  do  not  hesitate  to  write  to  me.  I 
have  three  of  my  own,  bless  them." 

Marjorie  could  only  smile  through  her  tears  and 
wave  her  hand  as  the  train  moved  slowly  away,  and 
they  started  on  their  journey  for  East  Elmore. 
Slowly  the  hours  passed.  In  a  short  time  the 
windows  had  lost  their  attraction  and  Dora  had 
captured  the  conductor.  When  the  menagerie  had 
finished  with  him  there  was  little  he  did  not  know 
about  the  home  they  had  left,  or  the  one  to  which 
they  were  going. 

After  lunch  Muggins  fell  fast  asleep  from  sheer 
exhaustion,  and  was  sleeping  peacefully,  when  all 
at  once  Billie  shook  her. 

"  It's  four  o'clock,"  he  said,  excitedly,  "  do  wake 
up,  Muggins,  and  see  the  country.  We'll  be  in 
pretty  quick." 

Six  noses  were  pressed  close  to  the  windows  as 
the  train  swept  on,  past  rolling  uplands  and  low 
broad  sweeps  of  pasture  land,  down  by  rivers  and 
creeks.  Then  at  last  the  train  rounded  a  curve, 
and  East  Elmore  came  into  sight.  A  quiet  little 
country  town  on  the  side  of  a  hill,  with  a  broad 


The  Princess  Comes  to  Her  Own     25 

shallow  river  at  its  base.  Muggins  had  turned 
from  the  window  to  collect  the  scattered  bundles 
whose  name  was  legion,  and  Billie  came  to  help  her. 

"  Say,  sis,"  he  said,  with  a  trace  of  anxiety  in 
his  voice,  "  have  you  any  idea  how  far  this  place 
is  from  town  ?  " 

Marjorie  raised  her  head  in  a  quick  startled  way. 

"Why,  no,"  she  answered,  slowly.  "Uncle's 
letters  were  always  postmarked  East  Elmore,  and 
pap; i  knew  all  about  ii  But  I  haven't  the  least 
idea  where  the  house  is.  Some  one  will  be  able 
to  tell  us,  though." 

"  Perhaps,"  Billie  said,  dubiously.  "  I  hadn't 
thought  of  it  before.  Wouldn't  it  be  funny  if  " — 

"  East  Elmore,"  called  the  conductor,  and  the  rest 
WHS  all  a  scramble  and  bustle  until  the  six  stood 
safely  on  the  platform  before  the  depot,  watching 
the  smoke  of  the  vanishing  train. 

"  Now,  then,  you  girls  and  the  Lion  go  in  there, 
and  sit  down  while  I  find  out  about  everything," 
Billie  commanded,  and  Muggins  gave  him  a  grate- 
ful glance  for  relieving  her  of  the  responsibility. 

First  he  tried  the  freight-agent  who  was  busy 
with  their  luggage. 

"  Say,  do  you  know  a  little  old  house  around 
here  somewhere  ?  "  he  asked,  bravely. 

The  man  looked  up  at  the  sturdy  little  form  be- 
fore him,  at  the  bright  anxious  eyes,  and  cap  in 


26  Rook's  Nest 

hand,  for  Billie  never  forgot  his  politeness.  The 
freight  agent  was  interested,  and  named  over  all 
the  little  old  places  he  could  think  of,  but  they  all 
had  tenants,  so  the  right  one  was  still  missing. 
Billie  felt  a  trifle  excited,  and  an  old  farmer,  who 
had  been  leaning  back  in  a  chair  on  the  shady 
side  of  the  station,  strolled  forward  to  listen.  He 
was  short  and  stout,  with  a  smooth  shaven  face, 
rosy  and  wrinkled,  the  wrinkles  deepening  around 
the  merry  blue  eyes.  Billie  turned  to  repeat  his 
question  to  the  newcomer. 

"Jest  looking  for  a  little  old  house,"  he  re- 
peated. "Well,"  after  a  moment's  thought,  "I 
guess  I  can  suit  you  to  a  T.  It's  that  place  be- 
yond the  ravine,  Jim,  where  old  man  Randall 
lived." 

"  Yes,  sir ;  that's  the  name,"  broke  in  Billie, 
eagerly.  "  He  was  our  uncle,  and  our  name's 
Randall,  too." 

*'  I'll  take  you  down  to  see  it  now,  if  you  want 
to  go,  son,"  said  the  old  man,  kindly. 

. "  Oh,  thanks,  but  there  are  six  of  us,"  answered 
Billie. 

The  old  man  looked  at  him,  his  eyes  twinkling 
merrily. 

"Well,  how  you're  all  going  to  camp  out  in 
that  little  shanty  is  more  than  I  can  say,"  he  re- 
marked. 


The  Princess  Comes  to  Her  Own     27 

Billie  was  distinctly  discouraged.  It  was  hard 
to  hear  the  little  home  on  which  they  had  placed 
their  hopes  called  a  little  shanty,  but  he  swal- 
lowed back  the  lump  in  his  throat,  and  asked, 

"  How  far  is  it  ?  " 

"  'Bout  two  miles,  more  or  less.  You  can  all 
come  with  me  if  you  want  to.  Run,  tell  your 
folks,  son." 

"There  are  six  of  us,  I  said,  sir,"  explained 
Billie.  "  The  girls  and  the  Li —  I  mean  Reggie, 
and  I." 

"  All  youngsters  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Well,"  after  a  pause,  "  come  on,"  and  there 
was  a  queer  look  in  old  Mr.  Rogers'  blue  eyes  as 
he  watched  the  boy  go  into  the  waiting-room. 

Billie  was  hailed  with  delight  when  he  told  of 
his  success.  He  did  not  say  anything  about  the 
shanty  though.  It  might  spoil  everything,  he 
thought,  and  make  the  girls  feel  badly. 

"  What  about  the  boxes,  and  furniture,  Billie  ?  " 
Muggins  enquired,  anxiously. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  returned.  "  Let's  ask  the 
old  duffer  out  there." 

Accordingly,  Mr.  Rogers  was  interviewed,  and 
after  careful  deliberation,  and  a  survey  of  the  pile 
of  luggage,  he  agreed  to  carry  as  much  of  it  as 
would  go  on  the  large  hay  wagon  that  was  backed 


28  Rook's  Nest 

up  to  the  platform,  and  it  was  not  long  before  the 
whole  lot  had  been  transferred. 

"  Now,  then,  you  youngsters  11  have  to  catch  on 
wherever  it  is  handy,"  said  Mr.  Kogers,  cheerily. 
"  The  brown-haired  one  had  better  sit  up  here  with 
me  and  hold  the  little  shaver  on  her  lap.  Son, 
you  tuck  the  girls  behind  the  lasi  box,  and  swing 
on  yourself  at  the  end.  All  right,  everybody? 
Get  up,  Charlie.  G'long  there,  NelL" 

Down  the  street,  over  the  railroad  track,  and 
along  the  riverside  road  went  the  big  wagon  with 
its  queer  load,  and  the  menagerie  were  uproari- 
ously jubilant.  The  heat  of  the  day  was  past,  and 
the  shadows  of  the  tall  poplars  and  maples  were 
lengthening.  The  grass  by  the  roadside  was  thick 
with  yellow  dandelions,  and  Billie  had  to  jump 
down  at  the  Lion's  order,  and  gather  some  of  the 
tallest  ones  to  make  curly  wiggles  of.  Then  there 
were  thorn  apple-trees — clouds  of  pink  and  white 
blossoms  here  and  there  beneath  the  tall  forest 
trees — and  again  it  was  Billie  who  accommoda- 
tingly got  his  hands  well  scratched  breaking  off 
fragrant  branches  for  her  royal  highness. 

"What  do  you  reckon  doing  yonder?"  asked 
Mr.  Eogers,  when  they  had  left  the  town  far  be- 
hind. 

Marjorie's  face  was  lifted,  her  eyes  soft  and 
dreamy,  her  lips  half  parted  in  a  smile  of  content. 


The  Princess  Comes  to  Her  Own     29 

"  Oh,  just  live  and  be  happy,"  she  said.  "  It  is 
all  so  beautiful  here." 

"  Yes,"  assented  the  old  man,  "  it's  a  right  nice 
place,  and  it's  a  pretty  place,  too,  but  fruit  trees 
and  posy  beds  aren't  going  to  feed  you  six  chil- 
dren." 

"  Oh,  we're  going  to  raise  vegetables,"  Muggins 
said,  hopefully. 

"  And  peanuth,"  added  the  Lion,  solemnly. 

Mr.  Rogers  laughed,  a  jolly  chuckle  of  a  laugh 
that  shook  him  from  head  to  foot. 

"  "Well,  I  hope  you'll  like  it,  and  grow  fat,"  he 
said.  "  Have  you  got  any  farm  tools  ?  " 

Marjorie  shook  her  head,  and  stopped  thinking 
how  lovely  it  would  be  to  get  lost  in  a  great  deep 
ferny  ravine  like  the  one  they  were  passing,  to 
wonder  what  they  would  do  with  tools,  anyway. 

"  Didn't  you  ever  raise  anything  ?  " 

"  Nary  a  'tater,"  called  Billie,  from  the  end  of 
the  wagon.  "  But  we're  going  to  learn  how." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  while  the  crops  are 
growing  ?  " 

"Oh,  have  a  good  time  all  around,  and  eat 
grass,"  replied  Billie,  bravely.  He  felt  that  unless 
he  met  these  practical  posers,  Marjorie's  courage 
might  vanish  entirely  at  the  prospect  ahead,  and 
that  would  never  do. 

"  Well,  my  place  is  next  to  yours,"  Mr.  Rogers 


30  Rook's  Nest 

said,  "  and  if  you  get  into  a  hole  just  call  on  your 
neighbor.  I'll  help  you  out." 

"  Have  you  got  any  ? ''  asked  Dora,  her  curly 
head  bobbing  up  from  behind  a  box  with  startling 
suddeness. 

"Any  what?" 

«  Children." 

"  I've  got  Rob,  that's  all.  Eob's  a  likely  boy, 
too." 

"  Does  he  ever  call  girls  names  ?  " 

"  Guess  not." 

"Not  freckles,  or  red-head,  or — or  anything 
horrid  like  that?" 

Mr.  Rogers  laughed. 

"  If  he  did,  his  mother  wouldn't  own  him.  No, 
Rob  isn't  that  kind.  He  likes  dogs  and  rabbits, 
and  turtles  and  squirrels,  and  all  that  truck.  He's 
got  a  room  full  of  all  kinds  of  queer  stuff  that  he 
thinks  a  sight  of.  Bird's  eggs  and  such  like,  only 
he  never  takes  but  one  egg  from  each  nest.  He 
wouldn't  hurt  anything  for  the  world.  Why  I've 
seen  him  walk  round  an  ant  hill  for  fear  he'd 
crush  some  of  the  ants.  And  he's  got  a  fiddle, 
too ;  he  can  play  on  it  like  all  get  out  when  he  gets 
started.  And  he  draws  pictures  fine,  too." 

Dora  planted  her  elbows  on  the  top  of  the  box, 
and  leaned  her  chin  on  her  palms  thoughtfully. 

"Is — is   your  boy  pretty?  '   asked  Winifred, 


The  Princess  Comes  to  Her  Own     31 

shyly,  a  vision  of  some  of  her  favorite  princes 
coming  up  before  her. 

"Well,  no,  not  exactly,"  Mr.  Rogers  answered. 
"  He  doesn't  look  like  me  a  bit  No,  I  don't  think 
Bob  will  ever  set  the  world  afire  with  his  good  looks, 
but  he's  a  good  boy ; "  and  here  the  old  man  had 
another  laugh,  this  time  so  vigorous  that  Charlie 
and  Nell  pricked  up  their  ears  and  made  a  fresh 
start  homeward. 

"  I  shall  like  that  Rogers  boy,"  Dora  whispered, 
confidentially  to  the  OwL  "  I  shouldn't  wonder  if 
he  were  a  brick." 

"  But  he  isn't  pretty,"  said  Winnie,  shaking  her 
head,  doubtfully.  "  I  don't  like  homely  people." 

More  ravines,  more  meadows  with  glimpses  of 
the  river  now  and  then,  dim  at  the  margin  with 
wood-green  shadow  trees,  and  blue  with  the  re- 
flection of  passing  clouds  in  midstream.  The  two 
miles  were  passed  all  too  quickly,  and  finally  the 
wagon  drew  up  before  a  little  gate.  This  and  the 
top  of  a  chimney  were  all  one  could  see  to  show 
that  there  was  a  house  beyond,  for  tall  lilacs  in 
full  bloom  stood  all  along  the  roadway  as  far 
as  the  fence  went,  and  hid  the  interior  from 
view  like  the  hedge  around  the  palace  of  the 
sleeping  beauty.  Then  there  were  maples,  too, 
their  leaves  light  gold-green,  and  lacy  above  the 
lilacs,  and  still  farther  on,  fruit  trees  like  great 


32  Rook's  Nest 

snowballs  of  blossoms,  making  an  enchanted  garden 
indeed. 

All  except  Avis  and  Muggins  were  past  the  gate 
as  soon  as  they  could  get  there,  exploring  the  new 
domain  with  shouts  of  triumph.  The  girls  waited 
until  Mr.  Rogers  had  lifted  out  the  furniture  and 
set  it  in  the  garden  with  Billie's  assistance.  Then 
they  thanked  him  warmly  for  all  his  kindness,  and 
went  in,  feeling,  as  they  shut  the  gate,  a  tingle  of 
pride  and  pleasure.  It  was  all  their  very  own. 

IJp  the  path  they  went  until  they  found  the 
house,  the  funniest  dot  of  a  house,  gray,  in  color, 
with  morning  glories  and  rose  vines  tangled  all 
over  the  walls,  and  more  lilacs  on  guard  as  senti- 
nels. These  could  look  over  the  top  nearly,  and 
nod  a  friendly  greeting  to  the  grape-vine  on  the 
tiny  arbor  that  led  to  an  old  moss-grown  well  at 
the  back. 

The  door  was  locked,  and  Billie  had  promptly 
gone  to  work  in  a  business-like  manner  at  the 
kitchen  window. 

"In  you  go,"  cried  Dora,  fairly  dancing  with 
excitement,  as  her  hero  tumbled  valiantly  in,  and 
drew  back  the  bolt  on  the  kitchen  door  with  the 
air  of  a  conqueror. 

"  Oh,  what  a  cobwebby  nest  it  is,"  exclaimed 
Winifred,  stepping  daintily  on  the  threshold. 

The  two  windows  faced  the  west,  and  the  room 


The  Princess  Comes  to  Her  Own     33 

was  bright  with  the  ruddy  sunset  glow,  which 
shone  on  the  dim  walls  and  faded  paint,  with  a 
kindly  magic  touch  that  lent  them  some  of  its 
beauty. 

The  furniture  was  meagre,  a  couple  of  chairs,  a 
table,  and  a  cupboard.  On  the  dusty  floor  were 
two  dingy  braided  rugs,  and  on  a  peg  by  the  sink 
hung  a  crazy  looking  mirrow  with  patches  of 
quicksilver  showing  in  unexpected  places.  The 
entry  was  in  the  centre  of  the  little  house,  and  ran 
straight  through  to  the  kitchen  with  a  room  on 
either  side.  One  was  a  sitting-room,  and  here 
Uncle  Cherrington  had  left  his  mark.  The  arm- 
chair drawn  up  beside  the  open  grate  with  high 
curved  back,  and  deeply  hollowed  seat,  told  of 
many  a  cosy,  if  lonely,  evening  spent  before  the 
wide  old-fashioned  grate. 

There  was  a  faded  carpet  on  the  floor,  and  the 
view  from  the  windows  on  the  green  garden  vistas 
and  blossoming  trees  was  very  pretty. 

Marjorie's  heart  grew  lighter  the  more  of  her 
kingdom  she  saw,  and  already  she  had  fixed  on 
certain  corners  that  would  be  just  right  for  the 
desk  or  couch  or  the  menagerie's  playground. 

The  room  opposite  was  a  large  bedroom  with  a 
tall  four-posted  bed  in  it  that  gave  the  girls  the 
shivers.  Last  of  all  came  a  room  that  started  be- 
hind the  sitting-room,  and  extended  the  length  of 


34  Rook's  Nest 

the  kitchen,  after  which  it  went  off  a  way  on  its 
own  account,  making  an  "  L  "  at  the  south  corner. 

"  "What  a  funny  place,"  Dora  said,  as  they  ran 
through  the  rooms,  not  minding  the  dust,  but 
laughing  and  shouting  over  new  discoveries  at 
every  step.  "  There  ought  to  be  an  old  witch  to 
pounce  out  on  us  and  change  us  into  birds  or 
lizards,  and  then  we'd  have  to  wait  until  a  prince 
came  to  break  the  spell." 

"  I  wish  your  old  princes  would  come  and  bring 
something  to  eat,"  grumbled  Billie,  dismally.  "  I 
could  eat  fried  doormat." 

"  Me,  too,"  echoed  the  Lion,  with  a  gentle  sigh 
of  endurance. 

Avis  looked  at  Muggins.  Words  were  not 
needed  between  them.  Here  were  six  hungry 
children,  and  not  a  mouthful  to  eat  in  the  nest. 

"  Let's  go  out,  and  look  after  our  things  in  the 
yard,"  said  Muggins,  cheerfully.  "  We  must  get 
some  of  them  in  before  dark,  you  know,  Billie." 

So  back  they  all  went  to  the  garden,  and  piece 
by  piece  the  treasured  bits  of  furniture  were 
brought  into  the  new  house  until  everything  was 
in  except  the  three  boxes. 

"We'll  have  to  camp  any  old  place  to-night, 
girls,"  Billie  said,  after  it  was  all  done,  and  they 
sat  cross-legged  in  a  circle  under  the  lilacs.  "  Say, 
Muggins,  can't  you  think  of  a  single  thing  to  eat  ?  " 


The  Princess  Comes  to  Her  Own    35 

Marjorie  shook  her  head  dolefully. 

"I  never  thought  about  anything  except  our 
lunch  on  the  train  when  we  left  the  other  house," 
she  answered.  "  Whatever  can  be  done  ?  " 

A  gloomy  silence  fell  on  the  little  group.  Avis 
had  a  spray  of  apple  blossoms  and  was  thought- 
fully munching  the  delicate  petals,  and  Billie  was 
solemnly  feeding  the  menagerie  by  turns  with 
grass,  when  suddenly  Dora's  quick  brown  eyes 
opened  wider,  and  she  bent  eagerly  forward  to  look 
at  a  tall  figure  looming  up  in  the  shadowy  twilight 
the  other  side  of  the  gate. 

"  Look ! "  she  whispered,  softly,  pointing  at  the 
sudden  apparition.  "There's  the  prince."  And 
before  any  one  could  stop  her,  she  sprang  up  and 
called  out  "  Whatcher  got  ?  " 

"Doughnuts  and  milk,"  came  back  the  ready 
response.  "  I'm  Hob  Rogers.  Father  said  you'd 
all  be  hungry.  Can  I  come  in  ?  " 

Could  he  come  in ! 

Billie  turned  a  somersault  on  the  grass  and 
shouted, 

"  Well  I  guess !  Come  ahead !  Bring  on  your 
doughnuts  and  milk ; "  while  there  was  a  general 
stampede  as  the  tall  figure  came  up  the  path  with 
a  pitcher  of  milk  in  one  hand,  and  a  big  pan 
filled  with  rich  brown  doughnuts  in  the  other. 
"  The  honest  and  truly  ones,"  Dora  said,  "  with  a 


36  Rook's  Nest 

hole  in  the  middle."  The  stranger  was  very  shj, 
though,  under  the  volley  of  questions  and  the  ef- 
fusive welcome  of  the  menagerie,  and  even  Mug- 
gins'  warm  invitation  to  stay  could  not  keep  him. 

"  Come  back  to-morrow,"  called  Dora,  between 
mouthfuls,  as  he  turned  to  go.  "  Sure  pop." 

"  All  right,"  Bob  answered,  laughingly.  "  Mother 
says  you  are  all  to  come  over  to  our  place  for 
breakfast.  First  house  down  the  road  it  is. 
Good-night,  all." 

"  Good-night.  "We'll  come,"  shouted  Billie,  and 
Marjorie  felt  happier  than  she  had  since  they  had 
come  to  the  nest. 

For  an  hour  after  Rob's  departure  the  six  Rat- 
tletibangers  cared  little  about  anything  else  in  the 
world  as  they  made  Mrs.  Rogers'  doughnuts  dis- 
appear, and  drained  the  last  drop  of  sweet  country 
milk  ;  but  at  last  the  feast  was  finished.  As  they 
started  to  go  indoors,  the  Lion  was  missed,  and 
after  considerable  skirmishing  Avis  found  him 
rolled  up  like  a  kitten  under  the  lilacs  fast  asleep 
with  his  little  Jap  doll  clasped  loyally  in  his  arms, 
side  by  side  with  a  half  eaten  doughnut.  Billie 
carried  him  into  the  house,  and  so  the  first  night 
began,  and  the  princess  had  come  to  her  own. 


CHAPTER  m 
Princes  in  Disguise 

PROMPTLY  at  six  by  Marjorie's  little  silver  watch 
hanging  up  iu  the  kitchen  for  a  clock,  Billie 
paraded  back  and  forth  through  the  entry  banging 
on  the  milk  pan  with  his  fist. 

"  Everybody  get  up  and  hustle,"  he  called,  and 
the  rest  answered  to  the  call  nobly. 

The  walk  down  the  road  to  the  Rogers'  farm 
was  short,  and  the  warm  welcome  that  awaited  the 
children  was  so  hearty  from  Mr.  Rogers,  and  so 
motherly  from  his  wife,  that  Marjorie  knew  she 
had  two  true  friends  on  whose  kindness  she  could 
rely. 

"  Land,  child,"  said  Eob's  mother,  her  rosy  face 
beaming  around  on  the  circle  of  hungry  faces 
about  the  breakfast  table.  "  You're  no  better  than 
a  brood  of  goslings  without  a  mother.  Who  on 
earth  is  going  to  teach  you  how  to  swim  through 
life?" 

"  Muggins,"  said  Dora,  promptly,  and  although 
she  laughed  with  the  rest  over  Dora's  answer,  yet 
when  she  looked  at  Marjorie's  steady  brown  eyes, 

37 


38  Rook's  Nest 

and  loving  ways,  Mrs.  Rogers  thought  Dora  might 
be  right  after  all.  After  breakfast,  Rob  harnessed 
Sinbad,  his  own  handsome  bay,  to  a  light  wagon, 
and  Marjorie  made  a  list,  with  Mrs.  Rogers'  help, 
of  all  the  groceries  she  would  need  to  start  house- 
keeping with,  so  that  the  boys  could  bring  them 
from  town  for  her,  and  they  drove  off  together,  the 
best  of  friends. 

"  Aren't  the  Rogerses  nice  ?  "  asked  Dora,  when 
the  girls  walked  back  home.  They  had  a  gener- 
ous basket  of  eggs  and  butter,  and  on  top  of  these 
a  cook-book. 

"  You'll  need  it  before  you  get  through,"  Mrs. 
Rogers  had  said,  when  she  laid  it  there. 

"Mr.  Rogers  is  so  little  and  cunning,"  Dora 
went  on  in  her  rattling  happy-go-lucky  way.  "  He 
looks  just  like  Santa  Glaus,  and  Rob's  a  darling. 
He  promised  me  some  pigeons  and  bantams,  and 
rabbits,  and  said  he'd  help  me  climb  up  to  the 
crow's  nest  in  that  big  walnut-tree  down  by  their 
barn.  My,  but  isn't  he  tall?  Billie  says  you 
could  tie  a  knot  in  him,  and  then  he  wouldn't  be 
too  short." 

It  was  great  fun  in  fixing  up  Rook's  Nest,  as 
they  all  called  it  The  packing  cases  were  opened  in 
the  yard,  and  after  the  house  was  cleared  of  dust 
and  cobwebs,  the  treasurers  from  the  old  home 
were  transferred  to  the  new  one.  With  fresh 


Princes  in  Disguise  39 

white  curtains  at  the  windows,  and  pretty  familar 
pictures  hung  around  on  the  walls,  the  place  com- 
menced to  wear  quite  a  different  aspect  A  rib- 
bon tidy  here,  and  a  soft  dainty  pillow  there, 
placed  by  Avis'  tasty  fingers,  gave  quite  an  attrac- 
tive air  to  the  bare  lonely  rooms,  and  the  girls 
felt  wonderfully  encouraged  when  at  last  they  sat 
down  and  surveyed  their  work. 

The  long  "  L  "  room  was  to  take  the  place  of 
the  schoolroom  at  home,  and  already  the  special 
corners  were  arranged.  Hop  Sing  and  Cripple 
hung  in  their  cages  at  the  windows.  The  three 
little  white  beds  of  the  menageries  stood  around 
like  doll  beds,  and  Avis  had  set  up  her  little  desk 
and  bookcase,  trying  to  forget  the  piano  she  loved 
so  welL  But  best  of  all,  they  unanimously  de- 
clared was  "mother's  corner."  That  was  Avis' 
idea,  and  she  had  carried  out  her  plan  with  great 
success.  The  rosewood  desk  was  there,  and  a 
picture  of  the  dear  mother  hung  above  it,  and  then 
came  the  willow  chair  with  the  stool  for  her  feet, 
and  lastly  her  work-basket ; — the  high  one  of  fancy 
straw  and  wood  with  slim  prettily  carved  legs,  and 
queer  little  hanging  bags  around  the  sides  for 
thread  and  buttons,  and  all  the  multitude  of  odds 
and  ends  that  found  a  peaceful  resting-place  in 
mother's  work-basket 

"I  think  we  have  fixed  a  place  for  every  one 


40  Rook's  Nest 

now,"  Marjorie  said,  counting  off  the  places  on  her 
fingers.  "  Dora,  Winnie,  and  Reggie  in  the  school- 
room in  their  own  beds ;  you  and  I,  Avis,  will 
have  the  four  poster,  and  Billie  will  have  to  sleep 
on  the  lounge  in  the  sitting-room." 

"That's  all  very  nice  for  us,"  the  Lamb  re- 
turned, from  her  perch  on  the  window-sill,  "but 
Billie  won't  have  any  place  for  his  bugs  or  his 
books  or  anything.  I  think  it's  mean." 

"  No,  it  is  not,  dear,"  said  Avis,  calmly.  "Billie 
is  the  man  of  the  house,  and  must  make  the  best 
of  everything." 

"Well,  I  don't  care,"  murmured  Dora,  rebel- 
liously,  "  it  isn't  fair,  and  p'raps  Billie  and  I'll  go 
off  and  build  a  house  all  by  our  ownselve^.  Then 
you'll  be  sorry  you  didn't  treat  him  well.  We 
could  build  a  better  one  than  this,  any  day." 

"  Mutiny !  Mutiny !  "  cried  Marjorie,  catching  up 
the  rebel  in  her  arms.  "  Let's  lower  her  down  the 
well  until  she  promises  to  be  good." 

"I  won't,"  screamed  Dora.     "Let  me  go." 

"  Promise  ?  " 

"  No,  sir-ree  bob,  I'll  go  with  Billie  if  he  goes," 
gasped  the  Lamb,  in  lusty  defiance,  though  she  was 
being  borne  in  disgrace  to  the  well,  but  all  at  once 
there  was  a  sound  of  wheels,  and  she  screamed, 

"Bil-lee!" 

Whereupon  two  gallant  knights  rushed  to  tho 


Princes  in  Disguise  41 

rescue  of  beauty  in  distress,  and  after  a  brief,  but 
fiery  fray,  bore  her  from  the  enemy  in  triumph. 

"  Of  course  we'll  build  a  house,"  Billie  replied 
to  Dora's  eager  questioning,  "  and  we  won't  tell  a 
soul  where  it  is,  either.  That's  the  way  to  settle 
tin -so  prime  ministers  who  think  that  they  can 
make  heads  of  families  sleep  on  common  lounges. 
Not  much." 

The  prime  ministers  did  not  notice  the  threat 
They  were  too  busy  looking  over  the  bundles  of 
provisions  which  Bob  handed  down  from  the 
wagon.  With  their  slender  store  of  money  they 
had  not  dared  to  indulge  in  even  the  mildest 
luxuries,  but  still  the  little  stock  seemed  quite 
plentiful  and  tempting  when  it  was  all  nicely  ar- 
ranged in  the  small  pantry  off  the  kitchen. 

"  If  you  need  anything  come  right  over  to  our 
place,"  Bob  said  to  Marjorie.  "Mother  will  do 
anything  for  you." 

"  Oh,  we'll  come  fast  enough,"  interposed  Billie, 
with  suspicious  eagerness.  "  Just  wait  until  we've 
sampled  Miiggins'  cooking,  then  we'll  see  whether 
it  leaves  us  dead  or  alive,  and  if  it  kills  us,  why, 
we'll  begin  life  over  again  with  you." 

Bob  laughed.  He  was  standing  by  the  kitchen 
door  with  the  Lion  on  his  shoulder,  and  Marjorie 
glanced  at  the  two  with  a  quick  bright  smile.  She 
liked  this  tall,  overgrown  boy,  with  his  soft  dark 


42  Rook's  Nest 

eyes,  and  quiet  voice.  He  held  tlie  little  chap  as 
tenderly  as  she  herself  could  have  done,  she 
thought;  and  the  look  in  his  eyes,  a  steady, 
resolute  look,  and  the  way  he  held  his  head — as 
if  he  were  not  afraid  of  anything  in  the  whole 
world,  made  her  agree  with  Mr.  Rogers.  Bob  was 
certainly  a  likely  boy. 

"  Can't  you  stay  to  dinner  with  us,  Bob  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"No,  thanks,"  he  said,  with  a  glance  at  his 
soiled  hands  and  dusty  clothes.  "  You  don't  want 
to  begin  feeding  tramps  so  soon." 

"  Oh,  go  on,"  Billie  said,  in  a  low  tone  of  en- 
couragement "  Muggins  won't  care." 

"  No,"  Bob  answered,  turning  away,  and  setting 
the  Lion  down  carefully.  "  But  perhaps  the  other 
one  would.  Good-bye." 

Billie  looked  after  him  in  a  puzzled  way  as  he 
drove  of£  Then  he  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets 
and  whistled  softly  for  a  few  minutes  before  he 
got  the  case  clearly  in  his  head. 

"  Say,  Avis." 

Avis  turned  from  the  table  she  was  sitting  to 
look  enquiringly  at  the  head  pushed  through  the 
window. 

"  Have  you  been  putting  on  airs  with  Bob '? " 

"  Certainly  not,"  answered  her  royal  highness, 
with  dignity.  "  I  have  not  spoken  to  him  at  all." 


Princes  in  Disguise  43 

"  Oh,  that's  it,  is  it  ?  "  groaned  Billie.  "  Been 
treating  him  as  if  he  were  a  walking  clothes-pole, 
or  a  stray  lightning-rod,  haven't  you?  Just  a 
shadow  in  your  royal  highness's  path,  eh  ?  Avis 
Randall,  do  you  know  you  make  me  tired  ?  Now, 
you  needn't  get  huffy,  'cause  you  do.  Can't  act 
with  common  politeness  to  a  boy  'cause  he  milks 
cows  and  wears  overalls.  Who  was  it  brought 
you  doughnuts  and  milk  when  you  were  starving 
on  old  apple  blossoms  ?  " 

"  Billie,  if  you  knew  how  silly  you  looked  bob- 
bing your  head,  and  reading  the  riot  act,  you'd 
stop,"  said  Marjorie,  laughing  heartily  at  the  two. 
So  the  matter  was  let  rest,  and  the  first  meal  they 
had  eaten  in  the  new  house  was  despatched  in  a 
general  "  jollification,"  as  Billie  called  it 

The  days  passed  on,  and  Marjorie's  heart  grew 
lighter  and  more  hopeful  as  she  saw  how  happy 
her  little  colony  was.  Bob  was  a  regular  visitor 
at  the  Nest,  and  a  very  welcome  one  too.  It  was 
he  who  helped  Billie  clear  away  the  weeds  from 
the  yard,  and  cut  the  high  straggly  grass  into  a 
semblance  of  order.  It  was  he,  too,  who  taught 
them  how  to  begin  their  gardening;  and  he  and 
Muggins  worked  over  the  slips  and  cuttings  and 
seeds  that  Mrs.  Rogers  sent  over,  until  Marjorie 
was  as  brown  and  as  tanned  as  the  boys. 

Avis  would  not  touch  gardening.     It  made  her 


44  Rook's  Nest 

hands  so  rough  and  dirty,  and  besides,  one  had  to 
touch  worms  and  creeping  things,  so  she  would 
take  her  sketch-book,  or  a  favorite  author  from 
her  little  library  hoard,  and  go  off  by  herself  to 
the  riverside  or  ravine  to  dream,  and  play  princess, 
Billie  explained  scornfully. 

They  were  brave  dreams,  though,  for  Avis  was 
the  genius  of  the  family,  the  said  family  had  al- 
ways agreed  ever  since  she  was  as  small  as  the 
Lion.  While  Muggins  had  been  busy  as  a  bee, 
looking  after  the  sick  father  and  caring  for  the  in- 
valid mother,  Avis  had  studied  and  dreamed  and 
lingered  now  over  her  piano,  now  over  her  sketch- 
ing, now  over  her  stories,  ever  looking  forward  to 
the  great  day  when  she  should  win  fame  and  for- 
tune and  play  fairy  godmother  to  the  whole  Han- 
dall  brood.  But,  in  the  meanwhile,  she  thought 
out  wonderful  plots  and  scribbled  off  wonderful 
tales,  and  wasted  her  substance  in  copy-paper  and 
stamps,  and  then  sat  down,  and  waited  and  hoped, 
and  spent  the  money  they  were  sure  to  bring 
over  and  over  again  in  her  mind,  and  then  one 
day,  the  postman  would  bring  a  long  envelope  with 
a  business  head  on  it,  and  there  would  be  the  dear 
discarded  child  of  her  fancy  accompanied  by  the 
neat  frosty  little  line  of  refusal,  and  Avis  would 
weep  a  little,  storm  a  little  at  the  wretched  taste 
of  editors,  and  then  just  take  Billie's  advice  to 


Princes  in  Disguise  45 

grin  and  bear  it,  and  build  new  air  castles  when 
the  old  ones  faded  into  cloudland. 

But  she  was  a  genius.  There  was  no  doubt 
about  that,  Muggins  would  say,  and  so  even  if  she 
lacked  the  world's  verdict  of  fame,  she  was  the 
laurel-crowned  queen  of  poetry  and  fiction  at 
home,  and  never  lacked  an  appreciative  audience. 
The  schoolroom  had  been  the  shrine  of  the  Muses 
at  the  old  home,  and  now  at  the  little  Nest,  the 
"  L "  room  took  its  place.  Day  after  day,  Avis 
spent  some  time  at  the  desk  in  the  south  window, 
dreaming  and  writing  at  stories  that  were  to  thrill 
the  world,  but,  as  Billie  said,  "the  world  didn't 
thrill  worth  a  cent,"  and  the  practical  youth  even 
hinted  that  he  thought  it  would  be  a  good  deal 
more  to  her  royal  highness' s  credit  if  she  helped 
Muggins  wash  dishes,  and  mend  stockings. 
However,  Avis  always  gracefully  ignored  his  little 
hints  as  beneath  her  notice,  and  when  they  became 
too  pointed,  she  simply  took  refuge  in  the  ravines. 

Sometimes  the  Owl  would  go,  too,  but  generally 
she  liked  to  be  with  Beggie,  and  Avis  said  that  he 
was  too  much  trouble  to  take. 

Billie  and  Dora  were  acting  in  a  very  strange 
manner.  At  the  end  of  the  yard,  just  where  the 
slope  .toward  the  river  began,  stood  a  great  old 
ramshackle  barn,  large  enough  to  hold  three  or 
four  houses,  the  size  of  Hook's  Nest 


46  Rook's  Nest 

Muggins  had  been  too  busy  to  explore  it,  but 
Billie  and  the  menagarie  had  penetrated  to  its 
deepest  corners,  and  all  at  once  a  mysterious  sep- 
aration had  occurred.  The  rival  factions  were 
respectively  Billie  and  the  Lamb  on  the  barn  side, 
and  Winnie  and  Reggie  on  the  exiled  side.  Both 
had  been  summarily  banished  from  the  new  do- 
main a  few  days  after  its  occupancy  by  the  other 
two  worthies,  and  neither  threats  nor  prayers 
availed  to  recover  their  lost  estate. 

"  Winifred,  where  is  Dora?  "  asked  Marjorie,  about 
two  weeks  after  the  kingdom  had  become  inhabited. 

Out  in  the  garden  under  the  apple  trees  Bob 
had  erected  a  swing,  as  a  balm  for  the  Owl's 
wounded  spirits,  and  here  she  and  the  Lion  spent 
most  of  their  time. 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  her,"  Winnie 
answered,  loftily,  poising  herself  on  one  foot  and 
swaying  back  and  forth.  "She  and  Billie  shut 
themselves  up  in  that  old  spidery  barn,  and  that's 
all  we  see  of  them." 

Marjorie  laughed  at  the  aggrieved  tone  and  ran 
down  to  the  barn.  The  big  loose  creaky  doors 
were  barred  from  within,  and  she  called  several 
times  before  it  was  opened  by  Billie,  dusty,  and 
towsled  haired. 

"  No  fair  coming  in,"  he  announced,  firmly,  then 
called,  "  it's  only  Muggins,  Dora." 


Princes  in  Disguise  47 

A  muffled  answer  came  from  the  depths  beyond, 
and  he  continued : 

"  What  doth  the  princess  of  Rattletibang  King- 
dom wish  to  say  unto  the  lord  and  lady  of  the 
Palace  of  a  Thousand  Delights  ?  " 

"  I  want  to  tell  the  lady  to  come  and  chase  her 
bantams  out  of  my  garden  right  away,"  replied 
Marjorie,  decidedly. 

"  Aha ! "  and  Billie  knit  his  lordly  brow  in  deep 
abstraction.  "  So  the  imperial  birds  have  wan- 
dered, have  they?  'Tis  well.  "We  will  reclaim 
them,  Princess." 

"Hurry  up,  Dora,"  called  Marjorie,  as  she 
turned  away,  and  she  fired  a  parting  shot  at  the 
Palace  of  a  Thousand  Delights.  "If  your  im- 
perial birds  do  any  more  damage  to  my  pansy 
beds  I  shall  make  potpie  of  them." 

"Do  you  believe  she  means  that,  honest  and 
true  ? "  asked  Dora,  anxiously,  scrambling  out 
from  a  pile  of  hay  up  in  the  loft 

Billie  shook  his  head,  and  seated  himself  on  a 
meal  box. 

"  We're  going  to  have  a  mighty  hard  time  of  it 
to  keep  this  a  secret,"  he  said,  gravely,  "  the  girls 
are  just  hopping  wild  to  see  what  we've  got  in 
here,  and  Winnie  " 

"  Winnie,  indeed !  "  and  the  valiant  Lamb  gave 
a  sniff  of  disdain.  "  If  you're  afraid  of  children^ 


48  Rook's  Nest 

Billie,  you  can  leave  the  whole  thing,  and  I'll  ask 
Rob  to  help  me.  I  don't  care  what  you  do." 

Billie  glowered  at  her  in  high  dudgeon. 

"  I  do  believe  for  a  fact,  Dora  Randall,  that  you 
think  Bob's  smarter'n  I  am." 

Dora  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  loft  and  dangled  her 
feet  carelessly  down,  while  she  pegged  corn  kernels 
at  the  gloomy  lord  of  the  palace. 

"  I  like  him  because  he  never  gets  huffy  like  you 
do,"  she  replied,  teasingly.  "  What  if  they  do  try 
to  find  out  our  secret?  Can't  we  draw  up  the 
ladder  here,  and  beat  them  all  to  pieces  just  the 
same  as  if  it  were  a  real  palace  with  a  drawbridge, 
and  everything  ?  Billie,  you're  a  duffer." 

"  I'm  not,"  blustered  Billie. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  are,  too,  William,"  Dora  replied, 
calmly,  "  the  dufferest  duffer  I  ever  saw  " 

Such  imputations  were  unbearable.  Billie  sprang 
up  and  made  a  frantic  dive  for  the  ladder,  thirsting 
for  vengeance,  but  before  he  could  touch  it,  it  rose 
in  the  air  above  his  head,  hoisted  by  the  Lamb, 
who  thereupon  sat  calmly  down  on  her  draw- 
bridge, and  smiled  at  him  pityingly. 

"  Never  touched  me !  " 

"  You're  afraid,"  taunted  Billie,  but  she  shook 
her  head. 

"I  only  wanted  to  show  you  how  easy  it  is  to 
keep  any  one  from  coming  up  here,"  she  said. 


Princes  in  Disguise  49 

"  Yes,  but  we  could  starve  if  Muggins  thought 
of  a  seige,"  began  Billie,  dubiously,  when  all  at 
once  Marjorie  put  her  head  in  the  doorway. 

"  Bantam  potpie  for  dinner ! "  she  called,  and, 
taking  the  hint,  the  lord  and  lady  of  the  Palace  of 
a  Thousand  Delights  hastened  to  the  rescue  of  the 
imperial  birds,  and  shut  them  up  in  their  coop. 

"  We're  going  to  have  an  understanding  on  this 
matter,"  Avis  said,  at  dinner  time  when  Billie  and 
Dora  rushed  in  late  as  usuaL  "  You  two  go  oflj 
day  after  day  " 

"In  that  old  spidery  barn,"  added  Winnie. 

"  An'  chathe  uth  out,"  came  the  Lion's  plaintive 
tones. 

"And  forget  to  do  your  share  of  the  work," 
Marjorie  concluded,  trying  to  look  severa  The 
culprits  exchanged  glances,  but  did  not  reply  to 
the  charge,  and  after  dinner  they  strolled  back  to 
the  barn  arm  in  arm. 

"  I  wish  that  we  could  find  out  what  they  are 
doing  up  there,"  the  Owl  said,  regretfully. 

Two  days  had  passed  by,  and  still  the  mystery 
of  the  Palace  remained  unsolved.  The  lord  and 
lady  were  brimful  of  some  great  secret,  and  missed 
the  call  to  dinner  and  supper  regularly.  It  was 
after  dinner,  and  the  girls  were  washing  up  the 
dishes.  Since  the  desertion  of  the  Lamb,  Avis 
had  assisted  at  this  latter  function. 


50  Rook's  Nest 

"  So  do  I,"  replied  Marjorie.  "  I'm  afraid  that 
Dora  will  fall  from  those  high  beams  and  hurt  her- 
self, you  know,  Avis." 

"  Small  danger,  I  guess,"  Avis  returned,  rolling 
her  sleeves  up  daintly.  "She  climbs  trees  and 
fences  like  a  cat.  You  should  have  seen  that 
Rogers'  boy  and  she  up  in  the  walnut-tree  yester- 
day. He  makes  a  worse  tomboy  of  her  than  Billie 
does.  I  don't  believe  they  can  get  into  much 
mischief." 

But  Muggins  looked  anxious. 

"I  am  going  to  find  out  this  afternoon,"  she 
said,  slowly.  "  We'll  all  break  into  the  barn  and 
capture  it." 

"It's  too  warm  to  get  excited  over  nothing," 
Avis  said,  idly. 

"  Oh,  won't  you  help  us,  please,  Avie,"  and  the 
Owl's  face  was  all  puckered  for  a  cry. 

"No,  dear,"  replied  her  royal  highness,  decid- 
edly. '  "  I  don't  care  about  racing  all  over  that  old 
barn,  and  besides,  I  want  to  finish  my  chapter." 

"  You've  always  got  an  old  chapter  to  finish," 
Winnie  murmured,  wistfully. 

"  Well,  I  want  to  let  down  the  hem  of  my  white 
dress,  too,"  added  Avis. 

Marjorie's  face  sobered  in  a  moment,  and  she 
sighed. 

"It's  a  shame,  Avis,"    she   said,  impetuously, 


Princes  in  Disguise  51 

"when  you  are  BO  pretty  and  nice  and  different 
from  the  rest  of  us,  for  you  to  have  to  bother  over 
such  things." 

Avis  laughed  in  her  low  gentle  way,  and  took  a 
fleeting  look  at  herself  in  the  little  cracked  mirror. 
Fair,  long  hair  that  was  never  rumpled  or  untidy, 
but  fell  in  two  even  braids  down  her  back.  A 
sweet,  refined  face,  "  just  like  mamma's,"  Marjorie 
always  said,  and  soft  blue  eyes  that  were  ever 
ready  to  gaze  off  at  day  dreams  or  air  castles. 
She  was  tall,  too,  tall,  and  graceful  as  a  princess 
ou^rht  to  be  in  all  reason,  whereas  Muggins  was 
small  and  slender,  without  an  atom  of  dignity 
about  her.  Someway,  no  matter  how  much  house 
work  Avis  did,  she  was  just  the  same,  cool  and 
fresh,  and  sweet  But  with  Muggins  it  was  ever 
short  brown  ciirls  flying  helter-skelter,  the  big  all 
enveloping  apron  which  she  would  insist  upon 
wearing,  seemed  especially  devised  *to  catch  every 
speck  of  dust  and  grime  from  the  whole  castle,  and 
her  arms  and  hands  and  face  were  tanned  like  a 
gypsy's  from  working  in  the  garden.  And  the 
only  untidy  thing  about  her  royal  highness 
was  the  second  finger  on  her  right  hand.  This 
Billie  gloried  in  for  it  always  wore  a  fine,  largely 
developed  blot,  a  sign  manual  of  her  trade,  he 
said. 

She  looked  at  Marjorie  now,  and  there  was  a 


52  Rook's  Nest 

shade  of  grateful  tenderness  in  her  voice  as  she 
answered : 

"  You  have  to  bother  about  a  hundred  and  one 
things,  Marjorie,  of  much  more  importance  than  a 
white  dress.  Why  shouldn't  I  ?  You  don't  want 
to  keep  me  around  for  an  ornament,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  it  isn't  that,"  Marjorie  answered, 
vigorously,  as  she  paused  to  talk,  a  plate  elevated 
in  one  hand,  and  the  dish-cloth  in  the  other.  "  I 
mean  that  you  ought  to  have  been  born  some  one 
who  only  had  to  look  lovely  all  the  time,  just  born 
to  float  around  in  a  star-ship  " 

"  What's  that  ?  "  asked  Avis,  laughingly. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  exactly,  only  it  would  look 
like  a  star  and  sail  through  the  sky  with  cute  lit- 
tle slaves  fanning  you,  and  flowers  all  piled  around 
for  you  to  lie  on.  Then  there  would  be  a  prince 
in  disguise  "- 

"How  would  I  know  that  he  was  a  prince  if  he 
were  in  disguise  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  would  just  know  because  you  couldn't 
help  knowing,  and  that's  all,"  replied  Marjorie,  em- 
phatically. "  Princes  are  princes  no  matter  whether 
they're  in  velvet  or  rags.  He  would  love  you  for 
your  golden  hair,  and  something  wonderful  would 
happen,  of  course,  probably  a  griffin  would  carry 
you  off,  and  then  the  prince  would  have  to  rescue 
you  and  bear  you  to  a  palace  of  pearl  and  crystal 


Princes  in  Disguise  53 

where  you  could  live  on  ice-cream  and  chocolate 
caramels  all  the  time,  and  be  happy  ever  after. 
And  I  would  be  the  fairy  godmother  and  say, 
'  bless  you,  my  children.' " 

"  It  would  be  better  than  a  Rook's  Nest,  anyway," 
said  Avis,  thoughtfully,  looking  out  of  the  low 
window  at  the  wilderness  of  trees  and  tangle  of 
wild  flowers  and  climbing  vines.  "I  wish  the 
prince  would  come." 

"  Here's  Rob !  "  called  Winifred,  poking  her  head 
in  for  a  second  at  the  kitchen  door  before  she 
scampered  down  the  path  after  the  fleeing  form 
of  the  Lion. 

Muggins  laughed  as  Avis  turned  from  the 
window. 

"  It's  only  that  Rogers'  boy,"  she  said,  sedately, 
picking  up  the  dish-towel  to  wipe  the  rest  of  the 
dishes. 

"  But  he  may  be  a  prince  in  disguise,  all  the 
same,"  laughed  Marjorie  ;  then  to  Rob  as  he  came 
into  sight :  "  Hello,  stranger.  Where  have  you 
been  for  two  whole  days  ?  " 

Rob  leaned  over  the  window-sill  with  Reggie 
clinging  to  his  neck,  and  nodded  pleasantly. 

"We've  been  pretty  busy,"  he  answered,  "on 
account  of  mother's  boarder.  It's  the  new  min- 
ister over  at  the  chapel,  Mr.  Keith.  I  only 
stopjxHl  to-day  on  my  way  to  town,  to  say  hello." 


54  Rook's  Nest 

"Billie  is  sure  to  want  to  see  you,"  replied 
Muggins,  "  can't  you  come  in  ?  " 

"No,  thanks.  Let  go  my  neck,  old  gentle- 
man." 

"Tickle  him,  Bob.  Hard,  under  his  arms," 
Winnie  advised,  wisely,  and  upon  the  advice  being 
followed,  the  Lion  surrendered  unconditionally. 

"I  wonder  if  he  is  very  old,"  Avis  said,  after 
Bob  had  gone. 

"About  eighteen,  Billie  told  me,  eighteen  or 
nineteen." 

"  Who  ?     The  new  minister  ?  " 

Marjorie  looked  up  at  Avis'  startled  face,  and 
burst  out  laughing. 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  I  mean  Bob,"  she  said,  when  she 
could  speak. 

"  I  believe  that  Bob  Bogers  has  turned  every 
head  in  the  castle  except  mine,"  returned  Avis. 

"You  show  him  that  pretty  well,"  and  there 
was  a  decided  rebuke  implied  in  Marjorie's  tone. 

Avis  shut  her  lips  in  a  close  firm  line,  and  hung 
the  towels  on  the  line  outside  the  door  with  great 
deliberateness.  It  was  not  until  she  had  taken 
off  her  apron  and  was  about  to  leave  the  room 
that  she  spoke. 

"  I  don't  care  whether  he  knows  it  or  not.  He's 
just  a  big,  common  awkward  country  boy,  and  I 
don't  think  boys  like  that  are  nice.  I'm  not  a 


Princes  in  Disguise  55 

tomboy  liko  Dora,  or  a  dear  good  angel  like  yon, 
Marjorie,  and  I  don't  liko  folks  for  friends  who 
have  cows  and  things  to  look  after,  and — and 
aren't  neat  So  there." 

Marjorie  stood  speechless  during  the  outburst, 
and  after  Avis  was  gone,  she  turned  to  the  door 
at  a  slight  noise  there.  It  was  Bob. 

"I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  mother  says  you 
can  have  a  couple  of  quarts  of  milk  every  night 
just  as  well  as  not,"  ho  said,  looking  with  the 
same  pleasant  steady  smile  at  her  flushed  shamed 
face. 

"Oh,  Rob,  I'm  so  sorry,"  Muggins  cried,  ex- 
truding her  hands,  impulsively,  "I  know  that  she 
did  not  moan  " 

"That's  all  right,  Margie,"  answered  Rob, 
cheerfully.  "  I  guess  probably  she's  right" 

"  But  it  isn't  so  "— 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  is,"  laughed  Rob,  as  he  turned  to 
go.  "I'm  not  as  neat  as  one  of  your  princes. 
Good-bye." 

Marjorie  sat  down  on  the  door-step  to  think 
hard.  She  was  deeply,  truly  sorry  that  Rob 
should  have  heard  Avis'  words,  and  she  felt  as  if 
she  would  like  to  shake  some  of  the  "airs,"  as 
Billie  called  them,  out  of  her.  Avis  was  so  queer 
about  some  things.  She  had  said  once  that  peo- 
ple who  were  really  nice  at  heart  could  not  help 


56  Rook's  Nest 

being  nice  in  their  manners,  and  nice  to  Avis 
meant  looking  as  if  you  had  just  been  touched 
with  Cinderella's  wand,  and  were  perfect  from 
head  to  foot. 

That  way  of  looking  at  the  case  troubled  Mar- 
jorie.  She  had  known  so  many  people  whom  she 
had  thought  extremely  nice,  and  yet  who  did  not 
faint  if  their  hands  weren't  always  lily-white  like 
Avis' ;  then  again  it  seemed  to  her  that  there  had 
been  something  lacking  in  some  of  those  whom 
Avis  declared  so  "  nice,  and  neat,  and  well  bred." 
It  may  have  been  the  free-hearted  kindliness,  the 
unfailing  readiness  to  lend  a  helping  hand,  the 
frank,  cheery  good-will  that  they  lacked;  she 
could  not  tell  quite  all  she  missed,  but  they  made 
her  think  of  bubbles  floating  in  the  sunshine,  all 
beautiful,  changing  colors,  and  glittering  lights, 
and  then,  pouf !  there  was  nothing  to  them  but 
light  and  air  which  a  breath  blew  away. 

Now  Bob  Rogers  was  really  a  very  nice  boy ; 
she  had  thought  so  from  the  first  evening  when 
he  had  come  with  the  milk  and  doughnuts,  and 
she  still  thought  so,  in  spite  of  Avis. 

"  When  are  you  going  to  the  barn,  Muggins  ?  " 
called  Winnie  from  the  swing. 

Marjorie  gave  a  last  sigh  over  Avis'  queerness, 
and  rose  from  the  step. 

"Eight   away,"    she   returned,   and   started   to 


Princes  in  Disguise  57 

rally  her  forces,  for  this  charge  of  the  Rattleti- 
bangers  against  the  Palace  of  the  Thousand  De- 
lights was  to  be  an  event  in  the  history  of  Book's 

Nest 


CHAPTER  IV 
The  Palace  of  a  Thousand  Delights 

IT  was  a  warm,  bright  afternoon,  and  the  lilacs 
along  the  wall  afforded  safe  ambush  for  the  at- 
tacking party.  No  weapons  were  allowed.  It 
was  to  be  a  bloodless  victory  of  right  against 
might. 

The  three  bold  warriors  crept  in  single  file  De- 
hind  the  lilacs'  friendly  shelter  to  the  shady  side 
of  the  barn.  Here  stood  an  old  empty  water 
trough,  moss-grown  and  rickety,  just  under  the 
windows  of  the  stall,  and  one  by  one  Muggins 
dropped  her  army  through  a  window  while  she 
stood  on  the  trough,  and  then  the  gallant  com- 
mander herself  squeezed  through.  When  all  three 
stood  at  last  in  the  barn,  they  clasped  each  other's 
hands  for  mutual  support,  and  listened  for  sounds 
of  the  enemy. 

A  good  many  shingles  were  missing  from  the 
roof,  and  the  sunshine  sifted  down  through  broad 
cracks  here  and  there,  making  highways  of  golden 
dust  motes  from  roof  to  floor. 

Against  the  loft  stood  the  ladder,  and  Dora's 
58 


The  Palace  of  a  Thousand  Delights    59 

hat  Lung  on  the  top.  While  Winnie  and  Reggie 
hiel  iii  the  stall,  Muggins  removed  her  shoes,  and 
slipped  on  a  pair  of  rubbers  she  had  brought 
Noiselessly  she  stole  around  past  the  feed  boxes, 
and  harness  corner,  through  the  little  gate  which 
led  from  the  stalls  to  the  broad  space  under  the 
loft,  and  so  to  the  foot  of  the  ladder,  when  just  as 
she  raised  it,  the  hat  tumbled,  and  at  the  sound,  a 
shrill  cry  of  alarm  came  from  the  loft. 

There  was  a  rush  of  feet  overhead,  a  series  of 
thrilling  warwhoops  from  the  lord  of  the  Palace, 
and  the  ladder  was  seized  from  above. 

"  Winifred,  come  help  me  quick  1 "  cried  Mug- 
gin*,  laughing,  and  clinging  to  the  ladder,  and  the 
reserves  responded  nobly. 

There  was  a  brief  but  wildly  exciting  struggle 
for  possession.  Billie  hung  on  like  grim  death, 
his  feet  braced  against  a  board  in  the  floor  of  the 
loft,  while  the  Lamb  lent  her  strength  to  the  cause 
by  tying  a  rope  around  the  defender,  and  secur- 
ing the  other  end  to  a  side  beam,  so  that,  should 
his  powers  prove  unavailing,  he  would  not  be  car- 
ried over  the  Palace  walls  with  the  fall  of  the 
drawbridge,  and  thus  fall  a  prey  to  the  enemy. 

The  Roaring  Lion  became  utterly  unmanageable 
in  his  headstrong  zeal,  for  while  the  girls  were 
holding  down  the  strategic  key  to  the  stronghold, 
\ie  valiantly  attempted  the  scaling  of  the  walls 


60  Rook's  Nest 

alone,  and  was  only  deterred  from  ascending  the 
ladder  while  the  latter  was  swaying  in  mid  air  by 
prompt  and  strenuous  action  on  the  part  of 
Muggins. 

At  last,  however,  the  citadel  fell,  the  ladder  was 
borne  in  triumph  to  the  stalls,  and  the  lord  and 
lady  of  the  Palace  retired,  uncrushed  by  defeat, 
and  vowing  untold  vengeance. 

"  We've  got  you  now ! "  cried  the  Lion,  fairly 
dancing  with  joy.  "  You  can't  come  down." 

"  Well,  just  you  try  coming  up,"  Billie  retorted, 
defiantly ;  then  to  Dora  in  a  hushed  undertone : 
"That's  what  we've  got  to  do,  keep  them  from 
coming  up." 

"  They've  got  the  ladder,"  answered  the  Lamb, 
gloomily. 

"Never  mind.  Help  to  pile  a  lot  of  hay  over 
there  near  the  edge,  and  get  some  corn  to  peg  at 
them,  and  say,  let's  set  the  Enchanted  Goblin 
free?" 

There  was  a  confidence  expressed  in  the  last 
suggestion  that  instantly  reassured  Dora,  and 
preparations  for  the  defense  began  at  once. 
When  all  was  ready,  the  two  sat  still  and  awaited 
developments. 

A  subdued  giggle  came  now  and  then  from  the 
stalls,  but  at  last  even  these  ceased,  and  it  was 
evident  that  a  new  surprise  was  being  planned. 


The  Palace  of  a  Thousand  Delights    61 

When  the  ladder  disappeared,  Billie  pondered  and 
Dora  looked  worried.  They  heard  the  back  door 
swing  open,  then  came  a  smothered  sound  ot 
scuffling,  and  all  was  still  again. 

"  I  wonder  what  they  will  do  next,"  whispered 
the  Lamb,  lying  at  full  length  to  try  to  peer 
through  the  cracks,  but  Billie's  attention  was  fixed 
on  the  big  front  doors.  They  were  being  pushed 
and  shaken  as  though  some  one  were  trying  to 
get  in. 

"  There  they  are !  "  he  said,  excitedly,  "  they're 
trying  to  get  in  that  way." 

All  at  once  there  was  the  sound  of  quiet  foot- 
steps under  the  loft  coming  from  the  back  entrance. 

"Here  they  come,"  whispered  Billie.  "Give 
them  the  whole  thing  now." 

Just  as  the  steps  came  beneath  he  pushed  over 
the  stack  of  hay.  Immediately  Dora  followed 
with  a  shower  of  corn,  and  then  more  hay  from 
Billie,  and  then  more  corn,  and  lastly,  Billie  set 
free  the  great  white  owl  which  he  and  Bob  had 
caught  one  day  in  the  barn,  and  with  big  fright- 
ened eyes,  and  flapping  wings,  it  fluttered  help- 
lessly after  the  hay  and  corn,  and  the  two  bold 
defenders  danced  in  howling  glee  about  the  loft, 
at  the  frantic  scrambling  and  muffled  cries  for 
help  that  rose  from  below.  All  at  once  the  giv.-it 
window  at  the  side  of  the  loft  was  bunged  open, 


62  Rook's  Nest 

and  there  on  the  ladder  were  Muggins,  the  Lion 
and  Winifred,  all  ready  to  make  a  grand  onslaught 

The  noise  below  went  on. 

Billie  and  Dora  looked  at  each  other  in  horri- 
fied dismay. 

If  the  enemy  were  there  on  the  ladder,  whom 
had  they  smotherd  under  the  hay  ? 

"  It's  only  Avis,"  Dora  faltered,  "  or — or  Rob." 

"What's  the  matter?"  cried  Muggins,  gaily, 
holding  her  skirts  about  her  for  a  jump,  and  then 
suddenly  she  stopped,  staring  with  wide  startled 
eyes  at  the  barn  floor.  She  was  much  higher  up 
than  Billie  or  Dora,  and  had  a  fine  view  of  the 
scene  below,  so  when  they  saw  the  change  in  her 
expression  they  went  to  the  edge  in  guilty  fear, 
and  hand  in  hand,  peered  over. 

There  was  not  the  slightest  question  about  the 
invader's  being  completely  vanquished.  He  was 
more.  He  was  overwhelmed.  He  stood  just  be- 
low the  loft,  hatless  and  coatless,  struggling  with 
corn  and  hayseeds  that  had  lodged  in  his  hair,  his 
ears,  and  down  his  collar.  Where  there  was  no 
corn  there  was  hay,  and  where  there  was  no  hay 
there  was  corn,  and  the  Enchanted  Goblin  had 
left  the  marks  of  its  claws  on  his  hands  and  face. 

"It  isn't  Rob,"  said  Dora,  in  an  awestruck 
whisper. 

"  Not  even  a  tramp,"  gasped  Billie,  and  as  the 


The  Palace  of  a  Thousand  Delights    63 

stranger  glanced  up  to  see  where  the  hidden  foe 
was,  his  eyes  rested  on  the  big  window  whero 
Muggins  stood  like  a  new  kind  of  angel  ready  to 
take  a  drop  to  earth. 

"  How  do  you  do  ? "  he  said,  with  a  pleasant 
laugh.  "  I  didn't  know  that  you  expected  a  caller. 
I  guess  there  is  some  mistake." 

"I — I  don't  know,"  began  Muggins,  looking 
helplessly  from  him  to  Billie,  when  the  latter 
came  courageously  to  the  rescue. 

"  I  thought  you  were  Muggins,  you  know,"  he 
said,  confidentially. 

"  Well,  whoever  Muggins  is,  he  or  she  has  my 
hearty  sympathy,"  replied  the  stranger,  his  hearty 
laugh  sounding  strangely  in  the  old  barn,  "  and  I 
think  that  Muggins  owes  me  a  debt  of  gratitude 
for  bearing  Muggins'  punishment." 

"That's  Muggins  up  there,"  Billie  explained, 
with  his  most  winning  air  of  frankness,  pointing 
to  the  window.  "  Who  are  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Billie,  don't  be  so  rude,"  said  Muggins, 
her  face  flushing  hotly. 

"That's  all  right,  Miss  Muggins,"  returned  the 
newcomer,  "  he  has  a  right  to  ask.  I  am  the  new 
minister  at  the  chapel  and  my  name  is  Keith." 

"Just  plain  Keith  or  Mr.  Keith?"  asked  Dora, 
with  friendly  interest. 

"Allyn  Keith,"  he  replied. 


64  Rook's  Nest 

""Wait  a  minute,"  said  Billie,  "and  we'll  all 
come  down,  Mr.  Keith." 

Muggins  had  already  vanished  from  the  window, 
and  Dora  followed  Billie  down  the  ladder  in  very 
undignified  haste  to  do  the  honors  of  the  place  to 
the  new  rector. 

"  I'm  awfully  sorry,"  said  Billie,  apologetically, 
when  he  had  shaken  hands  with  Mr.  Keith  and 
helped  him  to  get  rid  of  some  of  the  hay  and  corn. 
"  We  were  having  a  fight,  you  know,  and  you  came 
right  where  we  expected  Muggins  to  come." 

Mr.  Keith  laughed,  and  declared  that  it  did  not 
make  a  bit  of  difference,  that  on  the  whole  he 
rather  enjoyed  the  joke  himself. 

Billie  scrutinized  him  approvingly.  He  was 
young  and  smooth-faced,  with  dark-grey  eyes,  and 
fair  wavy  hair,  "  just  a  leetle  red,  as  if  it  had  been, 
and  then  changed  its  mind,"  Dora  said  afterward. 
His  eye-glasses  had  been  knocked  off  in  the  scuffle 
with  the  Enchanted  Goblin,  but  Billie  found  them 
uninjured,  and  when  he  had  replaced  them  and 
stopped  laughing,  Mr.  Keith  presented  quite  a 
clerical  appearance. 

"Pretty  jolly  sort,  for  a  minister,"  Billie  in- 
wardly decided,  and  liked  the  clergyman  on  the 
spot. 

Avis  stood  in  the  garden,  cool  and  fresh,  in  her 
pretty  clean  lawn  dress.  She  had  been  sewing 


The  Palace  of  a  Thousand  Delights    65 

under  the  trees  when  Mr.  Keith  came  to  call,  and 
when  he  had  asked  for  Miss  Randall,  she  had  said 
that  her  sister  was  in  the  barn,  and  he  had  in- 
sisted upon  seeking  her  himself.  There  was  an 
amused  little  twinkle  in  Avis'  soft  eyes  when  she 
met  him  on  his  return  with  Billie  and  Dora,  one 
on  each  side. 

"  Did  you  find  her,  Mr.  Keith  ?  "  she  asked,  in- 
nocently. 

"  No,  not  Miss  Randall,"  he  replied.  "  I  found 
only  these  two,  and  plenty  of  hay  to  lavish  on  un- 
offending strangers  or  on  Muggins." 

"  Oh,  Muggins  is  Miss  Randall,"  Billie  hastened 
to  explain. 

Mr.  Keith  looked  surprised  and  puzzled. 

"Muggins — the  little  brown-eyed  girl  at  the 
window — Miss  Randall  ?  "  he  said. 

"Yes,  that's  Muggins,"  Dora  said,  "Marjorie 
Cherrington  Randall,  and  this  whole  place  is  hers, 
and  she  is  Princess  of  the  Castle." 

"  What  castle  ?  "  enquired  Mr.  Keith. 

"Castle  Rattletibang,"  replied  the  Lamb, 
promptly,  "  and  Billie  and  I  are  Lord  and  Lady 
of  the  Palace  of  a  Thousand  Delights,  and  that's 
the  barn." 

"  Well,  my  lady,  if  that  is  one  of  the  delights 
you  greeted  me  with,  you  may  keep  the  other  nine 
hundred  and  ninety-nine,"  said  Mr.  Keith,  as  he 


66  Rook's  Nest 

turned  to  look  at  Marjorie  coming  up  the  path. 
She  had  stopped  to  put  on  her  shoes,  and  though 
her  hair  was  flying  after  a  fashion  all  its  own,  and 
hay-wisps  were  plentiful  all  over  her  dress,  still 
there  was  something  about  the  erect  head,  and 
straight  earnest  gaze  of  her  brown  eyes,  that  made 
Mr.  Keith  change  his  opinion  of  Muggins. 

"I  am  stopping  at  the  Rogers  farm,"  he  said, 
when  they  were  all  seated  unceremoniously  on  the 
grass  in  the  garden,  "  and  I  want  to  begin  calling 
on  my  parishioners  at  once." 

"You're  pretty  young  to  be  a  minister,  aren't 
you  ?  "  Dora  asked.  "  You  don't  look  a  bit  like 
old  Mr.  Thurston  at  the  church  where  we  used  to 
go ;  does  he,  Muggins  ?  " 

Mr.  Keith  shielded  Muggins'  embarrassment  by 
a  quick  reply,  and  after  further  talk  about  the 
little  chapel,  and  a  promise  from  all  to  attend  its 
services,  he  rose  to  depart. 

"Ask  him,"  whispered  Dora,  nudging  Billie 
mysteriously.  Billie  looked  doubtful  a  moment, 
but  finally  acquiesced. 

"  Say,  if  you  aren't  too  busy  to-morrow,  come 
over  here.  We're  going  to  have  a  jollification — a 
regular  circus,  you  know,  in  the  barn,  I  mean  the 
Palace,  and  we  want  you  to  see  the  fun,  too." 

"  I  will  come,  surely,"  replied  Mr.  Keith,  as  he 
took  his  leave. 


The  Palace  of  a  Thousand  Delights    67 

"  How  nice  it  will  be  to  have  a  little  church  so 
near,"  Marjorie  said  that  night.  The  two  girls 
were  sitting  in  their  nightgowns,  combing  their 
hair.  It  had  always  been  their  favorite  time  for  a 
comfortable  chat  of  mingled  confidences  and  ex- 
changed opinions,  and  to-night  Avis  was  brighter 
than  usual. 

"I  think  it  will  be  splendid,"  she  answered, 
emphatically.  "  Isn't  Mr  Keith  nice  ?  " 

"Pretty  nice.  He  took  the  joke  well.  Billie 
says  some  folks  would  have  been  tearing  mad." 

"Not  a  clergyman,"  Avis  returned,  serenely, 
"  and,"  after  a  pause,  "  how  different  he  is  from 
Bob  Kogers." 

Marjorie  telt  slightly  nettled  over  the  compari- 
son, and  her  curls  were  pulled  hard  as  she  an- 
swered slowly : 

"  Well,  for  my  part,  I  don't  know.  If  you  mean 
that  Bob  doesn't  wear  eye-glasses,  nor  a  long  cler- 
ical coat,  why  then  I  suppose  he's  different,  but  if 
you  mean  it  the  other  way,  Avis,  I'd  have  to  see 
the  two  hearts  together  to  tell  for  sure.  Good- 
night" 

"  Good-night,"  said  Avis,  gently.  "  You  know 
you  said  yourself  that  princes  came  in  queer  dis- 
guises." 

"  Oh,  do  go  to  sleep,  you  girls  in  there,"  called 
Billie,  sleepily.  "How  do  you  suppose  a  fellow 


68  Rook's  Nest 

can  get  to  sleep  with  you  two  going  it  like  sixty. 
To  be  continued  in  the  morning." 

Muggins  threw  a  pillow  at  the  grumbler,  which 
was  instantly  returned  with  fervor,  and  then  the 
castle  was  quiet  for  the  night,  though  its  princess 
lay  awake  long,  thinking  hard  over  many  things. 


CHAPTER  V 
The  Circus  Queen 

"  Now,  then,  Billie,"  Muggins  said  at  the  break- 
fast-table the  following  morning,  "I  want  to  know 
why  you  invited  Mr.  Keith  here  to-day  ?  If  you 
think  that  he  will  be  allowed  to  see  any  of  Dora's 
or  your  wild  performances,  why,  you're  mistaken," 
and  she  shook  her  head  at  the  smiling  youth  op- 
posite her,  "  I  don't  intend  that  the  new  minister 
shall  be  shocked  at  us  so  soon,  sir." 

Billie  beamed  on  her  in  pitying  tolerance. 

"Never  you  mind,  Muggins,"  he  returned, 
blandly.  "  At  three  sharp  we  open  the  doors  and 
you  may  all  come  in  then  ;  but  you  won't  know  a 
blessed  thing  beforehand,  not  if  the  court  knows 
itself." 

Rob  was  in  the  secret,  at  least,  so  the  Owl  an- 
nounced, after  she  and  Reggie  had  sat  in  patient 
anticipation  on  the  side  fence  all  the  morning 
watching  the  barn,  for  they  had  at  last  been  re- 
warded by  the  sight  of  Rob  mounted  on  Sinbad, 
making  his  way  by  stealth  to  the  Palace.  This 

latter  edifice  was  securely  guarded  against  assault 

69 


70  Rook's  Nest 

now,  for  the  ladder  had  been  recovered  by  the 
Lamb's  forethought  in  the  excitement  of  the  pre- 
vious afternoon,  and  the  whole  place  was  impreg- 
nable. 

About  noon,  Bob  went  back  to  the  farm,  and  re- 
turned with  old  Uncle  Tom,  Mr.  Rogers'  ancient 
gray,  warranted  harmless,  Billie  had  said ;  and  the 
curiosity  of  the  watchers  on  the  fence  rose  to 
fever  heat  at  the  muffled  sounds  of  stamping  and 
thumping  which  followed. 

Luncheon  came,  and  with  it  two  dishevelled, 
wearied  mortals  who  looked  as  if  they  had  been 
through  the  wars,  but  emerged  gloriously  trium- 
phant. Afterward  Billie  rushed  to  the  house  foi 
newspapers  and  a  paper  of  tacks,  and  Marjorie 
was  just  in  time  to  catch  him  stealing  the  hoops 
off  the  rain  barrel. 

"  But  I  got  three,  all  the  same,"  he  said,  exult- 
antly, on  his  return  to  the  palace.  "  Just  the  right 
size." 

At  half-past  two  Mr.  Keith  came. 

"  "Whatever  happens,  I  want  you  to  know  be- 
forehand that  we  are  perfectly  guiltless,"  Muggins 
told  him,  her  brown  eyes  full  of  suppressed  mer- 
riment, when  he  found  she  and  Avis  out  in  the 
garden  awaiting  the  summons. 

Mr.  Keith  laughingly  agreed  to  reserve  all 
criticism  for  the  Lamb  and  Billie,  and,  as  he  spoke, 


The  Qrcus  Queen  71 

his  eyes  glanced  from  the  figure  swaying  idly  to 
and  fro  in  Winnie's  swing,  to  the  little  one  lean- 
ing against  the  tree  trunk,  and  Marjorie  flushed 
as  she  read  his  thought. 

"  Every  one  thinks  Avis  is  older  than  I,"  she 
said,  impulsively,  answering  his  unspoken  thought. 
"  She  is  so  dignified,  you  know,  and  taller,  too,  but 
then  she  is  clever,  and  it  always  seems  to  me  as 
if  clever  people  were  older  than  just  ordinary 
folks." 

"  Clever  ?  "  repeated  Mr.  Keith,  regarding  Avis 
in  mock  dismay.  "  Anything  startling  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  not  yet,"  Muggins  answered,  hastily, 
wondering  how  Avis  could  look  so  cool  and  disin- 
terested under  the  ordeaL  "  She  paints  a  little, 
and  plays  a  little,  and  writes — oh,  whole  piles,  as 
Billie  says.  And  some  day  " 

"  The  greatest  show  on  earth  is  now  about  to 
begin !  "  shouted  a  stentorian  voice  from  the  barn 
as  the  great  doors  swung  slowly  open  as  if  moved 
by  invisible  agency.  "Step  right  up,  ladies  and 
gentlemen.  Get  your  tickets  before  the  rush! 
Don't  push ! " 

There  was  a  frantic  rush  from  the  fence  as  the 
Owl  and  Lion  started  on  a  perfect  gallop  for  the 
barn,  and  the  rest  followed  more  slowly. 

"Everybody  sit  where  they  can  find  a  seat," 
called  Billie,  from  the  back  of  the  loft,  when  the 


72  Rook's  Nest 

audience  entered.  "Mr.  Keith,  take  the  meal- 
box." 

Avis  shared  the  mealbox  with  the  clergyman, 
and  the  two  children  climbed  to  the  tops  of  the 
stall  posts,  as  box  seats.  Marjorie  insisted  upon 
standing,  "so  as  to  be  ready  when  they  break 
their  necks,"  she  said. 

"  There  will  be  three  parts  to  this  show,"  an- 
nounced Bob,  appearing  on  the  edge  of  the  loft, 
his  violin  tucked  under  one  arm,  and  a  huge 
bouquet  of  lilacs  spreading  itself  over  his  shoulder. 
"  All  who  desire  to  see  the  side  show  will  please 
climb  the  ladder,  and  come  up  here  " 

"I  want  to  thee  the  thide  thow,"  called  the 
Lion,  starting  to  scramble  down  from  the  post, 
but  Winnie  clung  to  his  collar,  and  his  sudden 
ardor  cooled  rapidly  under  stress  of  circumstances. 

"The  regular  circus  will  take  place  in  the 
ring  " —  continued  Hob. 

"  Whereth  the  wing  ?  "  asked  Keggie,  mildly. 

"Bight  in  front  of  you,  young  man,"  replied 
the  ringmaster,  severely.  "If  you  would  use 
your  eyes  as  well  as  you  do  your  tongue,  you 
would  see  it.  And  I  want  to  say  right  here,  that 
the  wild  unicorn  from  the  Sahara  dines  daily  on 
youths  of  tender  years,  nice  dainty,  succulent 
youths  like  a  certain  person  present." 

Here  the  Lion  evinced  an  urgent  desire  to  get 


The  Qrcus  Queen  73 

near  Muggins,  and  it  was  with  some  difficulty  that 
order  was  restored. 

"Lastly,"  Rob  started  in  once  more.  "Last, 
but  far  the  least,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  there  will 
be  a  wild  west  show  after  the  regular  perform- 
ance, held  in  the  adjoining  prairie.  Now,  all  who 
wish  to  see  the  side  show  step  right  this  way." 

A  large  tin  pan  was  at  this  point  handed  out  to 
the  ringmaster,  and  he  beat  a  tom-tom  on  it  while 
he  declaimed  in  a  high  pitched  tone : 

"  Come  and  see  the  living  George  and  Martha 
Washington  1  Climb  the  ladder  and  see  the  only 
educated  spiders  in  existence!  Come  right  up 
and  talk  to  the  wild  girl  of  Jamboree,  and  witness 
her  marvelous  taming  of  the  Wolligog  " 

"  Whatth  the  Wolligog?  "  gasped  the  Lion,  his 
innocent  blue  eyes  widening  as  he  drew  back  sus- 
piciously from  the  ladder. 

"  The  Wolligog  is  the  largest  polliwog  in  exist- 
ence," replied  Bob,  gravely.  "Don't  miss  the 
only  chance  of  a  lifetime  to  view  the  only  white 
owl  that  Noah  let  out  of  the  ark,  the  wild  and 
woolly  Enchanted  Goblin.  Step  this  way  to  the 
side  show  1 " 

The  ladder  was  climbed  by  all,  and  Billie  was 
waiting  eagerly  to  show  his  treasures  to  the  crowd. 
Their  name  was  legion,  too.  One  corner  of  the 
loft  had  been  planked  in  so  as  to  hide  its  contents 


74  Rook's  Nest 

from  any  one  below,  and  here  was  the  secret 
domain  of  the  Lamb,  and  her  bold  comrade,  here 
was  the  treasure  chamber  of  the  Palace  of  a  Thou- 
sand Delights. 

On  a  board  at  one  side  was  a  long  array  of 
Billie's  bugs.  Yery  particular  was  he,  too,  as  to 
their  mode  of  death  and  arrangement  thereafter. 
The  Lamb  was  never  allowed  to  kill  a  specimen 
for  the  simple  reason  that  she  "  squashed "  the 
anatomy  beyond  recognition.  Now  Billie  prided 
himself  on  his  ways  and  means  of  execution,  and 
had  certain  special  ones  for  certain  specimens ;  so 
that,  when  their  spirit  had  fled  and  transfixed  by  a 
deadly  pin,  each  served  to  fill  a  place  in  some  of 
the  many  boxes  that  were  their  tombs,  they  still 
retained  that  loveliness  of  form  which  had  been 
theirs  when  in  the  flesh. 

There  were  butterflies  in  abundance,  from  great, 
scalloped-winged,  orange-spotted  beauties  down  to 
tiny  dots  in  pale  yellow  and  blue. 

Then  came  the  moths,  and  of  these  the  hum- 
ming-bird moth  was  king,  and  the  rest  but  sober- 
garbed  servitors ;  and  then  there  were  beetles  and 
gold  bugs,  and  all  manner  of  things  that  creep 
and  crawl  and  fly,  things  without  law  or  reason 
for  being  except  that  they  are  dainty  and  perfect, 
and  love  their  brief  life  as  much  as  William  loved 
his. 


The  Circus  Queen  75 

After  the  specimens  came  the  birds,  «*nd  here 
Muggins  spoke  her  mind  freely.  It  was  a  shame 
to  cage  tho  dear,  beautiful  creatures,  she  declared, 
and  shut  them  up  in  that  old  barn,  and  Billie  hov- 
ered about  uneasily  as  he  saw  the  tender  pity  in 
her  eyes  when  she  spoke  to  his  prize  bluejay  with 
its  handsome  topnot,  and  to  the  crow  that  was 
just  learning  to  whistle,  for  he  knew  that  Muggins 
would  speedily  find  a  way  to  set  them  free. 

There  were  two  owls,  the  big  white  one,  and  a 
little  one  with  a  red  bronze  plumage,  and  tufts  on 
his  head  like  horns. 

"That's  the  Enchanted  Goblin,"  Dora  said, 
"and  the  little  fellow's  a  wizard  in  disguise. 
Billie  read  that  owl  wizards  didn't  have  any  heart, 
and  if  they  did  have  one,  whoever  eat  it  became  a 
wi/ard,  and  he  wanted  to  kill  Toots  and  cut  him 
all  up,  and  eat  his  heart" 

"Why,  Billie,"  exclaimed  Avis,  "I  don't  think 
that's  nice." 

"  Traid  I'd  know  more  than  your  royal  high- 
ness ?  "  Billie  queried,  with  a  grin,  as  he  went  on 
to  the  cage  of  the  red  and  gray  squirrels.  These 
and  the  woodchuck  had  come  from  Bob's  store 
of  pets,  and  were  left  severely  alone  since  two 
sharp  slim  teeth  had  found  a  resting-place  in 
Dora's  thumb  when  she  tried  to  show  her  love  for 
a  "  dear  little  chipmunk." 


76  Rook's  Nest 

"  I  don't  see  your  educated  spiders,  Billie,"  Mr. 
Keith  said. 

Billie  had  forgotten  all  about  them,  it  appeared, 
but  they  were  there  all  the  same,  and  Dora 
reached  under  some  boxes,  and  drew  forth  two 
bottles,  chunky,  round-topped  bottles  with  a  large 
spider  in  each.  Such  plump,  speckled,  ferocious- 
eyed  fellows,  too. 

"  We  caught  them  up  in  a  corner  of  the  barn," 
Billie  explained,  "  and  some  day  we're  going  to 
take  the  corks  out,  and  let  them  fight.  Rob  says 
they  fight  like  stags,  get  a  good  grip  and  hang  on 
till  they  die.  What  do  you  think  of  the  side 
show?" 

"  I  want  to  thee  the  wild  girl  and  the  thnaketh," 
Reggie  said,  wistfully. 

"  That's  me,"  cried  Dora,  climbing  hastily  up 
on  top  of  a  barrel.  "  Bring  forth  my  Wolligog !  " 

The  keeper  of  the  Wolligog  at  once  passed  a 
small  box  up  to  the  wild  girl  of  Jamboree,  and, 
amidst  breathless  excitement,  she  opened  it,  and 
produced  the  Wolligog,  a  tiny  black  garter  snake, 
not  more  than  three  inches  long,  with  a  band  of 
bright  yellow  about  his  neck. 

"  This  wonderful  creature,"  Bob  began,  knock- 
ing for  order,  "possesses  the  strange  power, 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  of  increasing  or  decreas- 
ing his  size  at  will  At  times  he  becomes  a  per- 


The  Grcus  Queen  77 

feet  giant,  as  tall  as  a — a — what  did  you  say, 
Dora?" 

"As  a  telegraph  pole,"  replied  the  wild  girl, 
promptly. 

"Yes,  exactly  so,  as  a  telegraph  pole,  while  at 
other  times  he  is  the  size  you  now  see  him.  It  is 
impossible  to  explain  this  marvelous  power,  and 
if  any  one  doubts  our  word  they  are  earnestly  re- 
quested to  remain  and  wait  until  his  snakeship 
takes  it  into  his  head  to  swelL" 

"  I  want  to  thee  him  thwell,  Billie,"  announced 
the  Lion,  hopefully,  but  it  suddenly  appeared  that 
his  snakeship  never  would  swell  to  the  size  of  a 
telegraph  pole  when  little  boys  with  blue  eyes  and 
yellow  curls  were  around,  and  every  one  went 
down-stairs  again  so  as  to  be  in  time  for  the  grand 
entree. 

The  ring  was  a  large  enclosure  on  the  main 
floor  of  the  barn.  At  the  back  of  it  were  the 
stalls,  and  there  was  a  wide  entrance  between. 
Above,  wide  wooden  beams  stretched  from  the  loft 
to  the  side  of  the  barn,  and  from  two  of  these 
hung  two  home-made  trapezes  at  which  Marjorie 
looked  askance,  with  visions  of  flying  leaps  and 
broken  bones  in  her  mind's  eye. 

Bob  descended  from  th£  loft,  and  stood  on  a 
box  in  the  centre  of  the  ring. 

"  All  ready  1 "  he  shouted,  raising  his  violin  to 


78  Rook's  Nest 

his  throat,  and  at  the  sound  of  music,  the  stall 
door  was  banged  violently  open,  and  with  stately 
tread  and  flowing  mane,  Sinbad  paced  slowly  in 
with  Billie  on  his  back 

Billie  ?  Not  so.  Not  common,  everyday  Billie, 
but  a  beetle-browed  ferocious  looking  border 
ruffian  with  [Bob's  big  broad  brimmed  farm  hat 
perched  rakishly  on  the  back  of  his  head,  its 
crown  wreathed  in  goose  quills  and  rooster 
feathers.  Slung  carelessly  across  his  saddle  bow 
was  Mr.  Bogers'  old  rusty  shot  gun  that  had  made 
many  a  crow  or  hawk  give  up  the  ghost,  and  up 
and  down  each  side  of  his  blue  overalls  were  rib- 
bon bows  of  divers  colors  fastened  on  in  Mexican 
cowboy  style. 

Even  Sinbad  was  in  festal  array  with  balls  of 
yellow  dandelions  dangling  in  his  mane,  and  a 
wreath  about  his  arched  neck. 

The  music  ceased.  The  rider  halted  his  noble 
charger  before  the  box,  and  Bob  began  his  little 
say. 

"  This,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  is  the  far-famed 
scout  and  terror  of  the  plains,  Deadshot  Billie, 
likewise  known  throughout  the  West  as  Battlebox 
Bill,  Woolly  Willie,  Billie  the  Buster,  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 
If  the  youth  of  tender  years  feels  his  yellow  locks 
rising  in  apprehension,  and  thereupon  feels  called 
upon  to  make  a  demonstration  and  interrupt  this 


The  Qrcus  Queen  79 

show,  Deadshot  Billie  shall  perforate  his  slender 
form  with  bold,  bad  bullets,  that's  all." 

The  howl  that  had  trembled  on  the  Lion's  lip 
as  he  heard  of  the  terror  of  the  plains  died  away, 
and  he  stared  at  the  apparition  in  tense  silence. 

"Deadshot  Billie,"  went  on  the  ringmaster, 
"  has  gone  through  escapades  which  raise  the  hair 
on  end.  Six  times  has  the  dauntless  hero  been 
scalped,  four  times  burned  at  the  stake,  and  scores 
of  times  been  left  for  dead  on  the  field  of  many  a 
border  battle,  riddled  with  bullets  at  the  hands  of 
the  savage  redmen.  But  still  he  lives  to  wield  his 
deadly  weapon  that  has  never  been  known  to  miss 
the  mark  of  his  eagle  eye.  The  two  large  boxes 
which  he  draws  after  him  contain  the  trophies  of 
iiis  victories.  In  one  he  carries  two  thousand  and 
forty-one  bullets  taken  from  his  own  body  under 
the  most  exciting  circumstances,  while  the  other 
contains  no  less  than  three  thousand,  sixty-five 
and  a  half  front  teeth  won  in  gallant  fights  from 
Indians.  The  savage  custom  of  scalping,  Dead- 
shot  Billie  disdains.  The  victim  of  his  rule  is 
merely  called  upon  to  render  up  one  lone  tooth  as 
a  proof  of  his  death.  Billie,  kindly  shake  the 
boxes  for  the  public  so  that  they  may  hear  the 
teeth  and  bullets  rattle,  and  all  doubts  be  dis- 
pelled, as  I  fancy  I  heard  a  sneering  laugh  from 
the  lady  on  the  mealbox." 


8o  Rook's  Nest 

The  bold  scout  graciously  jerked  the  rope  at- 
tached to  the  soap  boxes  he  trailed  behind  him, 
and  they  at  once  gave  forth  a  deep-toned  rattle 
that  quite  satisfied  the  public. 

"Our  Wild  West  Show,"  continued  Bob,  "is 
under  the  entire  direction  and  control  of  Deadshot 
Billie,  and  he  will  himself  give  a  special  exhibition 
of  taming  a  bucking  broncho,  of  lassoing  the  fierce 
buffalo  on  his  native  plains,  and  of  holding  a  band 
of  Apaches  at  bay  in  a  canyon  gorge.  Don't  fail 
to  see  this  thrilling  part  of  the  performance." 

"  We  won't,"  called  the  Lion,  reassuringly,  and 
the  wild  west  hero  rode  about  the  ring  three  times, 
waved  his  gun,  lifted  his  sombrero  in  graceful 
salute  to  the  ladies,  and  retired. 

"The  next  appearance  will  be  the  $10,000 
Beauty,"  shouted  Rob,  "mounted  on  the  only 
snow-white  unicorn  in  captivity.  The  Beauty  was 
stolen  by  Turks  when  but  a  child,  and  was  rescued 
by  the  gallant  gentleman  who  has  just  left  us." 

"  Has  he  got  the  Turk's  tooth  ?  "  asked  Winnie, 
interestedly. 

"Yes,  ma'am,  he  has,  and  the  unicorn  was 
lassoed  by  Deadshot  Billie  on  the  desert  of 
Sahara." 

The  violin  struck  up  a  regular  breakdown  mel- 
ody, and  in  came  old  Uncle  Tom  with  his  slow 
lumbering  gait,  dignified,  and  a  trifle  resentful  of 


'THE  UNICORN  WOULDN'T  RUN  IF  You  SHOT  OFF  FIREWORKS 
UNDER  HIM" 


The  Qrcus  Queen  81 

the  pranks  played  upon  him.  The  boys  had 
strapped  an  old  ox  horn  on  his  forehead,  and  on 
his  back  sat  the  Lamb  in  all  her  glory.  She  had 
on  one  of  Marjorie's  long  skirts,  a  red  calico  one, 
and  Avis'  pet  silk  sash  wound  about  her  head  for 
a  turban.  She  was  very  rosy  and  elated,  this 
$10,000  Beauty,  and  as  for  riding  the  fiery  uni- 
corn, from  the  desert  of  Sahara !  Why,  it  seemed 
that  that  was  but  one  of  the  little  recreations  she 
took  before  breakfast 

"Up  with  the  hoops!"  cried  the  ringmaster, 
dropping  his  violin,  and  seizing  the  rain  barrel 
hoops  covered  with  newspapers. 

"  Oh,  Rob,  I'm  afraid  she'll  fall,"  Marjorie  ex- 
claimed, as  the  Lamb  rose  slowly  to  her  feet,  and 
balanced  herself  on  Uncle  Tom's  broad  back. 

"  No,  she  won't,  either,"  Bob  said,  calmly,  "  the 
unicorn  wouldn't  run  if  you  shot  off  fireworks  un- 
der him.  Please  don't  disturb  the  performance, 
madam." 

The  hoops  were  raised.  The  ringmaster  yelled 
"  Hi !  Hi !  "  and  poked  the  unicorn  in  the  ribs 
until  he  consented  to  move  forward.  Under  the 
first  hoop  he  stopped.  There  was  a  thrilling  mo- 
ment of  suspense  as  the  paper  ripped  and  the 
Beauty  thrust  her  head  through.  One  arm  and  a 
foot  followed  with  cautious  deliberation,  then  their 
mates,  and  lo !  the  fair  circus  queen  stood  once 


82  Rook's  Nest 

more  on  the  back  of  her  fiery  steed,  smiling  and 
unharmed,  and  kissing  her  hand  in  response  to 
the  deafening  applause. 

Just  here  a  trifling  delay  occurred,  as  it  required 
the  united  efforts  of  Beauty  and  ringmaster  to 
awaken  the  unicorn,  and  coax  his  straying  hoofs 
to  the  next  hoop,  but  at  last  all  three  .were  shat- 
tered, and  the  lady  retired  with  fearless  mien, 
albeit  with  a  very  red  face,  and  a  much  disarranged 
turban. 

Brilliant  acts  followed  in  quick  succession. 
The  audience  rose  as  one  and  cheered  lustily  when 
Signer  Slipporino  dangled  recklessly  from  the 
trapeze,  or  playfully  twined  one  leg  around  the 
bar  and  swung  to  and  fro,  tempting  providence  in 
a  new  way.  To  be  sure  the  Signor  bore  a  slight 
resemblance  to  Deadshot  Billie,  but  it  was  not  so 
very  noticeable. 

The  "  Cherry  Act "  was  announced  as  a  feat 
of  fearful  daring.  The  Signor  hung  by  his  knees, 
and  caught  cherries  in  his  mouth,  again  and  again, 
and,  after  a  little  by-play,  the  Circassian  girl  stood 
on  her  hands  and  caught  those  thrown  by  the 
Signor,  but  her  hair  became  so  unmanageable 
that  she  had  to  retire  precipitately,  and  the  ring- 
master said  there  would  now  be  an  intermis- 
sion, after  which  the  Wild  West  Show  would 
commence. 


The  Qrcus  Queen  83 

"  Why  don't  you  do  something  hard  ?  "  asked 
Winnie,  mildly.  She  and  the  Lion  had  pene- 
trated "  behind  the  scenes  "  in  order  to  see  exactly 
how  matters  stood. 

Dora  did  not  deign  to  reply.  She  pretented  to 
be  exceedingly  busy  folding  up  Avis'  scarf,  and  it 
was  not  until  the  two  had  gone  that  she  told  Billie 
of  the  taunt 

"  AYhy  didn't  they  do  something  hard?  " 

The  two  performers  stood  and  gazed  at  each 
other  in  moody  silence,  and  then  the  vials  of 
Billie's  wrath  broke  forth.  The  very  idea,  when 
for  days  and  days,  they  had  been  practicing  the 
wonderful  feats.  Perhaps  she  thought  it  was  easy 
to  wriggle  around  a  trapeze  bar.  Billie  supposed 
that  she  had  an  idea  that  riding  a  horse  was  like 
rolling  off  a  log.  You  just  did  it,  that  was  alL 
Very  well.  He  would  show  her.  He  would  mn 
with  Sinbad.  He  would  gallop  madly.  Perhaps 
he  would  even  jump  the  fence. 

"Yes,  but  what  shall  I  do?"  asked  the  Lamb, 
dolefully. 

"  You  can  ride  on  Tom  all  the  time." 

"  I  don't  want  to  ride  on  that  old  thing.  I  want 
to  ride  on  something  that  might  run  if  it  took  a 
notion  to,"  she  replied,  crossly. 

"  Well,  you  can't  have  Sinbad,  so  that  settles 
it,"  Billie  said,  decidedly.  "He — he's  kind  of 


84  Rook's  Nest 

dangerous,  and  I  promised  Bob  to  keep  a  tight 
rein  on  him,  you  know.  Don't  you  want  to  come 
out  and  see  me  lasso  the  scarecrow  ?  " 

No,  she  did  not.  She  did  not  care  a  bit  about 
old  scarecrows.  She  could  lasso  them  herself. 
It  appeared  that  the  only  thing  in  the  world  that 
she  wanted  was  something  to  ride  that  could  go 
like  sixty  and  frighten  the  wits  out  of  the  Owl 
and  the  Lion. 

"  Good-bye,"  Deadshot  Billie  called,  pleasantly, 
casting  a  look  over  his  shoulder  at  the  mournful 
little  figure  against  the  stall,  as  he  rode  out  on 
Sinbad  to  open  the  Wild  West  Show. 

Dora  went  over  to  the  door  and  peeped  out. 
Everybody  was  sitting  out  under  the  trees  in  the 
meadow  on  the  shady  side  of  the  barn  watching 
the  terror  of  the  plains  in  his  fierce  charges  at  the 
scarecrow.  She  thought  hard  for  a  moment,  and 
then  stole  back  to  the  barn,  and  a  moment  later 
the  $10,000  Beauty  could  have  been  seen  racing 
over  the  fields  the  other  side  of  the  Palace  far  out 
of  sight  from  the  spectators. 

It  had  been  the  very  first  week  at  Eook's  Nest, 
when  Dora  had  discovered  the  charm  of  a  certain 
pasture  down  by  the  river.  One  day,  on  a  journey 
of  exploration,  she  and  Billie  had  gone  thus  far, 
and  had  started  across  lots,  when,  all  at  once,  a 
long-legged,  shaggy  coated  object  had  sprung  up 


The  Qrcus  Queen  85 

from  the  shade  of  a  big  oak,  and  was  off  like  the 
wind  at  sight  of  them. 

"  Whoa ! "  howled  Billie,  as  he  dashed  off  in 
hot  pursuit  "  Deer." 

"No,  sir-ree,"  Dora  had  said,  calmly,  as  she 
watched  the  chase,  "  plain  everyday  colt" 

But  that  same  plain  everyday  colt  had  given 
them  many  a  wild  chase,  and  it  was  a  long  time 
before  she  had  made  a  chum  of  him.  Now,  how- 
ever, he  knew  her  as  such  a  one  as  himself,  a 
jolly,  rollicking  comrade,  and  when  she  called  him 
to-day,  he  came  tearing  at  a  break-neck  pace 
across  the  field  to  her,  and  Dora  felt  a  thrill  of 
delight 

She  had  certainly  found  something  that  could 
run. 

"  Come  along,  dear,  precious,  darling  childie," 
she  said,  lovingly,  and  put  her  arm  about  his  rough 
neck,  and  so  she  led  him  on  to  the  barn,  coaxing 
and  petting  him  all  the  way. 

Then  Darling  was  fed  some  of  the  sweetest 
clover,  from  the  edge  of  the  water-trough,  and  be- 
fore he  knew  what  had  happened  to  him,  Dora 
had  sprung  on  the  trough  and  was  astride  his 
back,  both  hands  clutching  his  mane. 

There  was  a  single  instant  of  astonishment  on 
the  part  of  Darling,  and  then  he  bolted.  Luckily 
the  bars  were  down,  and  he  made  straight  for  the 


86  Rook's  Nest 

meadow,  as  Dora  had  intended  he  should.  The 
Wild  West  Show  was  in  full  blast  when  the  colt 
shot  in  like  a  streak  of  greased  lightning,  and 
there  was  a  frantic  stampede  for  a  place  of  shelter. 

The  Lamb  was  frightened.  She  could  not  have 
denied  it  this  time.  Her  heart  was  pumping  in- 
side of  her  like  a  gigantic  clock  ticking,  but  she 
set  her  teeth,  and  tried  to  think  it  was  fun. 

At  the  very  first  bound  she  had  thrown  herself 
forward  on  Darling's  neck,  and  with  her  arms 
clasped  about  his  neck,  and  her  knees  gripping 
his  sides,  she  rode  like  a  little  Indian. 

"Let  him  alone,"  she  screamed,  as  Bob  flung 
off  his  coat,  "  I'm  all  right." 

But  Bob  thought  differently. 

"Hang  011,"  he  called  to  her.  "Put  up  the 
bars,  Billie." 

But  the  bold  terror  of  the  plains  was  unfit  for 
further  action.  Sinbad  had  reared  and  plunged 
aside  when  the  wild  creature  had  darted  by  him, 
and  Deadshot  Billie  had  landed  in  the  easiest 
manner  possible  on  a  grassy  resting-place. 

Mr.  Keith  turned  to  the  bars,  but  it  was  already 
too  late.  Once  around  the  meadow  Darling  saw 
the  open  way,  and  was  through  it  and  racing  to- 
ward the  home  pasture  as  fast  as  his  legs  could 
carry  him. 

"Bob!" 


The  Circus  Queen  87 

It  was  Marjorie's  voice,  and  the  tone  of  appeal 
that  decided  Bob.  He  had  vaulted  on  Sinbad  in 
an  instant,  took  the  fence  neatly,  and  was  off, 
while  the  rest  stood  motionless.  At  first  it  looked 
as  if  he  would  not  reach  the  runaways,  but  the 
shorter  cut  over  the  fence  had  helped  him,  and  he 
was  within  two  lengths  of  the  colt  when  the  latter 
shied  quickly  to  escape  his  pursuer,  and  when  he 
started  again  he  was  riderless  and  something  very 
still  lay  on  the  grass,  a  little  limp  something  that 
Rob  raised  tenderly  in  his  arms  and  bore  back  to 
Marjorie  when  the  sober-faced  group  hastened  to 
meet  him. 

"Is  she"-  Marjorie's  voice  choked,  and  she 
could  not  ask  the  awful  question,  but  Mr.  Keith 
knew  what  she  meant,  and  shook  his  head. 

"No,  no,  not  as  bad  as  that,"  he  said,  gently, 
laying  one  hand  on  Dora's  wrist  "She  has 
fainted,  that  is  all,  I  trust." 

Something  in  the  last  two  words  made  the  girls' 
hearts  sink  with  fear,  and  they  followed  Bob  to 
the  house  with  white  anxious  faces. 

"  I'll  go  for  the  doctor  on  Sinbad,  Margie,"  Bob 
said,  when  he  had  laid  Dora  on  the  lounge. 
"  Don't  worry." 

Avis  turned  to  watch  him  as  he  galloped  off  on 
Sinbad,  and  queer  conflicting  thoughts  came  in 
her  mind  about  "  thut  Rogers'  bov." 


88  Rook's  Nest 

"  Why  didn't  you  do  something  ?  "  she  asked 
Billie,  when  he  came  in  on  tiptoe,  his  face  screwed 
up  with  anxious  solicitude  for  his  comrade,  the 
poor  little  circus  queen. 

"  Gee  whiz !  What  could  I  do  ?  "  he  demanded, 
explosively.  "Wasn't  I  scared  stiff?  Did  you 
want  me  to  chase  her  on  the  unicorn  ?  " 

"  N-no,  but,  Bob,"  began  Avis,  but  Billie  opened 
his  eyes  at  once. 

"  Oho !  So  it's  Rob,  now,  is  it  ? "  he  cried. 
"  Now  that  he  bustled  off  like  a  hero  and  distin- 
guished himself,  you'll  speak  well  of  him,  won't 
you?  Well,  say,  let  me  tell  you  something,  your 
royal  highness  of  the  Imperial  Ink  Blot,  I  think 
you're  a  duffer,  and  if  Bob  makes  up  with  you 
after  the  way  you  treated  him,  he'll  be  a  bigger 
duffer  yet.  But  say,"  as  he  turned  away  without 
speaking,  "  bet  you  five  cookies  he  doesn't  make 
up." 


CHAPTER  VI 

Day  Dreams  and  Air  Castles 

"  THREE  weeks  at  least  before  she  can  walk,  and 
probably  it  will  be  longer,"  was  Dr.  Tilton's  part- 
ing word,  and  there  was  at  once  a  voice  heard  in 
Ramah,  lifted  up  in  lamentations  that  would  not 
be  comforted,  for,  as  Billie  was  not  in  the  room, 
Dora  laid  her  head  on  Marjorie's  shoulder  and 
had  a  good  cry  over  the  verdict.  Her  left  ankle 
was  badly  sprained,  and  for  Marjorie's  part  she 
was  thankful  that  the  injury  was  no  greater.  But 
the  Lamb  was  rebellious  over  the  close  confine- 
ment right  in  the  midst  of  good  times.  When 
Billie  entered,  however,  she  was  defiant  and  con- 
fident still. 

"  Want  a  little  colt  ride  ?  "  asked  Billie,  cheerily. 
"  You  wait  until  my  foot  gets  well  again,  and 
see  whether  I  do  or  not,"  Dora  retorted.     "  If  he 
hadn't  stumbled  I  could  have  held  on." 
"  Well,  you  hollered,  anyway." 
"  'Cause  I  was  having  such  a  good  time." 
Billie  nodded  his  head  wisely,  his  eyes  on  the 
bandaged  ankle. 


90  Rook's  Nest 

"  Maybe  you'll  holler  another  way  pretty  soon,'* 
he  said,  mysteriously,  "  and  it  won't  be  for  fun, 
neither." 

"Never  mind,  childie,"  Muggins  said,  lovingly, 
pressing  her  cheek  to  the  circus  queen's  pale 
freckled  one.  "  We'll  all  help  you  to  have  a  good 
time  so  that  you  won't  get  blue  or  lonesome." 

And  they  all  kept  the  promise.  Such  jolly 
hours  as  passed  now  in  the  little  old  sitting-room. 
Bob  and  Mr.  Keith  came  over  every  night  to  help 
amuse  the  sufferer.  The  violin  was  never  forgot- 
ten, and  at  the  command  of  Dora,  he  brought  his 
sketches  also.  Such  comical  sketches  of  the 
farm,  and  animals  and  Billie  and  all  the  rest  of 
them,  bright,  perfect  little  character  bits  done  to 
the  life  with  a  few  hasty  strokes  of  his  pencil. 

"  Father  says  it's  nonsense,"  Rob  would  say, 
laughingly,  when  Muggins  and  the  girls  praised 
his  work.  "  He  says  I'd  a  sight  better  be  spend- 
ing my  time  learning  to  farm  than  scribbling." 

For  even  big,  whole-souled  Bob  had  his  trou- 
bles, but  he  only  told  them  to  his  mother,  and 
Muggins.  Many  a  quiet  little  confidence  passed 
in  the  dim  old  kitchen  at  the  Nest,  with  Marjorie 
mending  socks  or  cooking,  and  Bob  standing  in 
the  doorway,  telling  her  of  how  he  wanted  his  life 
to  go.  After  all,  he  would  say,  father  could  not 
understand  how  he  could  love  the  farm,  and 


Day  Dreams  and  Air  Castles        91 

the  beautiful  open  country  and  all  that,  and  yet 
not  want  to  spend  life  in  the  quiet  routine  of  sow- 
ing and  reaping,  year  in  and  year  out. 

"  I  want  to  go  to  the  city,"  Bob  would  say, 
stretching  out  his  big  strong  arms  with  a  smile  as 
if  he  were  going  to  battle.  "  I  will  go  surely- 
some  day." 

And  Marjorie  would  nod  and  agree,  and  tell  him 
how  proud  of  him  they  all  would  be  when  he  be- 
came a  famous  artist. 

But  these  June  days  were  too  full  of  delight  to 
make  plans  or  bother  about  the  future.  Who 
would  worry  over  a  career  when  the  roses  were 
flashing  out  in  yellow  and  pink  and  deep  red  from 
every  corner?  And  when  the  birds  were  fairly 
singing  themselves  mad  over  the  joy  of  living,  and 
the  sky  ever  a  deep,  wondrous  blue,  spreading 
over  all  ?  Then  there  were  the  evenings,  and  the 
long  twilight  time  that  came  before  darkness,  and 
this  was  the  time  when  the  invalid  held  her  court. 
Bob  would  play  on  his  violin,  and  the  rest  would 
sit  in  the  dark  room  at  dusk  listening  to  Dora's 
favorites,  over  and  over,  and  some  of  his  own,  too, 
sometimes,  and  outside  the  hollyhocks,  white  and 
yellow  and  deep  pink  with  red  hearts,  would  nod 
in  at  the  windows,  and  to  Marjorie  all  the  world 
seemed  so  happy  and  bright,  just  a  glorious  place 
to  live  in,  that  was  alL 


92  Rook's  Nest 

Then  such  a  store  of  new  riddles  as  Mr.  Keith 
would  bring,  and  such  fairy  stories  as  he  told, 
with  Winifred  on  one  knee  and  Reggie  on  the 
other.  All  the  inhabitants  of  the  Nest  liked  Allyn 
Keith ;  he  was  young  and  boyish,  and  yet  firm, 
too. 

The  Sunday  after  his  call,  all  save  Dora  and 
Muggins,  had  gone  to  service  at  the  chapel,  and 
had  declared  it  the  nicest  little  church  that  they 
had  ever  seen.  Avis  played  the  organ  now.  It 
was  the  substitute  for  her  loved  piano;  and  on 
week  days  when  she  was  missed,  Marjorie  always 
knew  she  could  be  found  in  the  quiet  sunlit 
church,  her  hands  straying  lovingly  over  the 
keys,  and  her  face  lifted  to  where  the  stained 
glass  above  the  altar  caught  the  sunshine,  and 
threw  it  down  in  rainbows  of  purple  and  red  and 
gold. 

Marjorie  noticed  that  Bob  was  far  more  par- 
ticular about  his  appearance  than  he  had  formerly 
been ;  but,  although  he  would  laugh  and  talk 
freely  enough  when  he  was  with  her  or  the  chil- 
dren, as  soon  as  her  royal  highness  appeared,  he 
would  turn  silent  and  find  a  quick  excuse  for 
leaving,  and  Billie  gloated  over  it,  and  told  Avis 
every  day  he  had  won  those  five  cookies  all  right. 

So  the  weeks  passed,  and  still  Dora's  ankle  was 
far  from  being  well,  and  the  Lamb  fussed  and 


Day  Dreams  and  Air  Castles         93 

worried  until  Mr.  Keith  named  her  the  "  maiden 
all  forlorn." 

"  I  don't  care  what  you  call  me,"  Dora  mur- 
mured, dismally,  giving  her  pillow  a  vigorous 
thump,  and  pressing  her  face  down  on  it  "You 
are  all  having  such  a  happy  time,  and  here  I  am 
shut  up  in  the  house  day  after  day." 

Billie  had  made  up  a  new  riddle  that  he  tried 
on  every  one. 

"  What  is  it  that  Dora  is  that  she  isn't  ?  " 

It  never  failed  to  mystify  the  victim,  and  no  one 
had  ever  been  able  to  guess  it.  After  a  proper 
delay  he  would  explain. 

"  Why,  she's  a  patient,  you  see,  only  she  isn't 
patient,  you  know.  See  the  joke  ?  " 

The  Owl  and  the  Lion  brought  all  their  treas- 
ures willingly  and  laid  them  as  a  tender  votive  of- 
fering at  the  Lamb's  feet,  and  Billie  was  installed 
as  chief  clown  of  the  court,  rising  to  the  demands 
of  his  exalted  position  nobly. 

The  imperial  fowls  were  brought  in  daily  to  pay 
their  homage  to  her  ladyship,  and  when  Martha 
Washington  had  laid  her  first  egg,  it  was  poached, 
and  served  in  state  on  toast  for  the  Lamb's  dainty 
repast. 

Mrs.  Rogers  sent  dainties  every  day  by  Rob, 
but  still  the  invalid  fussed  and  fidgeted,  and  re- 
belled until  at  last  Billie  hit  upon  a  plan  for 


94  Rook's  Nest 

amusing  her,  and  passing  the  time.  Secret  con- 
sultations were  held  between  him  and  Rob,  and 
after  a  couple  of  days  they  set  to  work. 

"  What  on  earth  are  you  going  to  do,  boys  ?  " 
Marjorie  asked,  when  she  saw  them  carefully 
measuring  the  distance  from  the  loft  window  in 
the  barn  to  the  side  window  of  the  sitting-room 
beside  which  Dora  lay  on  the  lounge. 

"  Never  you  mind,  princess,"  said  Billie,  loftily. 
"  This  doesn't  concern  you  castle  dwellers  at  all. 
Just  you  wait  and  see." 

After  they  had  measured  the  distance,  Rob  pro- 
duced a  new  ball  of  strong  waxed  twine,  and  Mar- 
jorie's  workbasket  was  rifled  of  two  large  empty 
spools  which  once  had  had  basting  thread  on 
them,  but  had  been  saved  to  serve  as  wheels  for  a 
new  state  carriage  which  the  Lion  had  in  his 
mind's  eye  for  one  of  his  doll  family.  Reggie, 
however,  was  altogether  too  much  interested  in 
the  mysterious  thing  which  was  being  constructed, 
to  resent  the  loss. 

When  Rob  appeared  at  her  window  and  started 
to  hammer  hooks  into  the  woodwork,  Dora  at 
once  wanted  to  know  what  was  going  on ;  but  her 
questions  were  met  by  a  stolid  indifference  which 
set  her  ladyship  nearly  frantic.  Securely  held  by 
the  hooks,  one  of  the  spools  revolved  on  an  axis 
made  of  one  of  Mrs.  Rogers'  knitting  needles, 


Day  Dreams  and  Air  Castles         95 

sacrificed  for  the  good  of  the  cause.  Up  at  the 
barn  window  Billie  had  performed  a  similar  opera- 
tion, and  now,  after  frequent  struggles  with  inter- 
fering lilac  bushes,  and  apple  trees,  the  twine  was 
strung  over  the  two  spools. 

"  It  looks  like  a  telegraph  line,  doesn't  it  ?  "  said 
Dora,  excitedly,  as  she  squinted  one  eye  to  trace 
the  course  of  the  string  over  the  tree  tops. 

Billie  smiled  in  a  knowing  way,  and  winked 
solemnly,  as  he  started  after  Rob  for  the  barn. 

"  Watch  the  line,"  was  all  he  said,  and  they  did 
watch,  with  all  their  might,  Winnie  and  the  Lion 
sitting  under  the  window  with  their  eyes  fixed  on 
the  slender  lines,  and  indoors  beside  Dora  stood 
Avis  and  Marjorie,  as  eager  as  the  little  ones  to 
see  what  the  surprise  of  the  boys  might  be.  Not 
a  word  was  spoken.  The  suspense  was  getting 
awful,  when  all  at  once  the  Lion  shouted  ; 

"  Here  it  cometh  !     Here  it  cometh !  " 

A  swift  something  shot  down  the  line  from  the 
barn,  and  stopped  with  a  rebounding  bump  at 
Dora's  window. 

"Why,  it's  only  a  box,"  she  said,  eyeing  it 
gingerly. 

"  Open  it,  goosie,  open  it,"  said  Marjorie,  laugh- 
ing at  her  hesitation.  So  Dora  reached  out  her 
hand  and  removed  the  cover  from  the  little  tin 
box  that  had  come  over  the  lines.  There  was  only 


96  Rook's  Nest 

a  piece  of  paper  folded  inside,  and  a  flash  of  dis- 
appointment showed  in  her  face  as  she  opened  it, 
and  read  in  Billie's  large,  sprawling  handwriting. 

"  To  the  Captive  of  the  Castle  :  Greeting.  Have 
heard  of  jour  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy. 
Will  fight  soon.  Palace  of  T.  D.  O.  K  Answer 
by  secret  cable.  Lord  William." 

"  Oh,  what  fun,"  exclaimed  the  Lamb,  when  she 
had  finished,  her  eyes  bright  with  happiness  over 
the  new  novelty.  "  Give  me  a  pencil,  somebody, 
quick." 

A  pencil  was  at  hand,  and  in  a  minute  a  reply 
was  sent  back  to  the  anxious  watchers  at  the  Pal- 
ace, while  the  Lion  danced  for  joy  as  the  little  box 
sped  on  its  way. 

"  To  Lord  William  :  Salutations,"  thus  ran  the 
answer.  "  Lots  of  fun.  Wire  often.  Wish  I  could 
be  sent  in  the  box.  Can  furnish  plan  of  Castle 
any  time  you  want  to  storm  it.  Where  is  the 
Wolligog  ?  Lady  Lambkin." 

"  Hurrah !  "  shouted  Billie,  when  he  had  read 
it  aloud.  "  She  caught  on  all  right.  You  next, 
Bob." 

So  the  next  message  was  from  Bob,  and  the 
soul  of  the  fair  captive  was  exceeding  glad,  when 
she  saw  it. 

"  To  the  Beautiful  Tamer  of  Coal  Black  Colts. 
Dungeon  1001,  Castle  Battletibang :  Wolligog 


Day  Dreams  and  Air  Castles         97 

seized  by  the  Blue  Dwarfs  of  Crystal  Cave.  Wants 
witch  spell  from  you  at  once.  Will  change  him- 
self into  a  dynamite  bomb,  and  blow  up  the  cave. 
Where  will  he  be  after  the  explosion  ?  Answer 
quick.  General  Ked  Rover." 

A  long  drawn  "  Ah — h — h,"  came  from  the  little 
group  of  listeners,  and  the  Owl  cried  eagerly  : 

"  Oh,  tell  him  quick  not  to  let  the  Wolligog  ex- 
plode, Dora,  'cause  there  wouldn't  be  anything  left, 
you  know." 

The  Wolligog's  fate  being  thus  settled,  the  wire 
flashed  back : 

"  No  dynamite.  Send  Enchanted  Goblin  to  the 
rescue.  See  that  wild  colt  is  captured.  Give  him 
griffin  wings  and  a  saddle  of  thistle-down  for  me 
to  escape  on.  Lady  Lambkin." 

Back  and  forth  all  the  afternoon  went  the  little 
box,  and  the  exciting  news  which  it  bore  of  thrill- 
ing adventures  on  sea,  land,  and  air,  got  the  poor 
captive  lady  into  a  very  turbulent  state  of  mind. 
Finally  they  grew  so  marvelous  that  Winnie,  as 
the  lovely  Fairy  Kissabelle  sent  some  on  her  own 
account  Red  Rover  wired  in  haste  : 

"Fairy  Kissabella,  Caramel  Castle,  Sunshine- 
ville,  Skyland :  Lady  Lambkin  starving  in  dun- 
geon. Advise  by  return  box." 

"  To  His  Most  Esteemed  Highness,  Red  Rover, 
Palace  of  a  Thousand  Delights :  Give  her  beetles' 


98  Rook's  Nest 

tongues  powdered  on  rose  petal  salad.  Also  leg 
of  grasshopper  served  with  a  boiled  currant.  Send 
my  diamond  wand  at  once.  Kissabelle." 

"In  haste.  Diamond  wand  stolen  by  pixies. 
"Will  wire  special  goblin  police  to  pursue  robbers. 
K.  K" 

"  Supper  now  ready,"  called  Marjorie  from  the 
kitchen,  while  the  rest  were  breathlessly  awaiting 
the  return  of  the  Goblin  police. 

"  Just  a  minute,  just  a  minute  more,  Muggins," 
pleaded  the  Owl.  "Wait  till  we  get  one  more, 
please." 

So  the  cook  herself  came  to  witness  the  climax, 
and  this  time  the  box  came  more  slowly  as  if 
weighted  with  an  unusually  large  cargo. 

"It's  heavy,"  Dora  cried,  wonderingly,  and  she 
took  off  the  cover  as  if  she  expected  the  spring  of 
a  jack-in-the-box.  The  telegram  was  there,  but 
there  was  something  else,  a  queer  little  black  some- 
thing that  hid  itself  as  far  as  possible  in  a  corner 
at  sight  of  all  the  eager  eyes  staring  down  on  it. 
Dora  seized  the  telegram  and  read  excitedly  : 

"To  the  Lady  Lambkin.  Wolligog  rescued. 
Terrible  battle.  Enclosed  please  find  pixie  kiug. 
Taken  captive  and  enchanted.  Do  not  break  spell. 
Eed  Eover." 

"  Don't  you  know  what  it  is,  girls  ? "  Billie 
cried,  bursting  enthusiastically  into  the  room.  "  It's 


Day  Dreams  and  Air  Castles         99 

a  turtle,  just  a  little  fellow  for  a  cent  Rob  found 
him  down  on  a  log  on  the  river  bank.  Isn't  he  a 
dandy?" 

Dora  raised  the  royal  captive  out  of  the  box, 
and  held  him  on  the  palm  of  her  hand.  Such  a 
tiny  chap  he  was,  not  much  larger  than  half  a  dol- 
lar, with  bright  eyes  and  out  stretched  head. 

"  What  shall  I  do  with  him  ?  "  Dora  asked, 
helplessly,  and  Billie  laughed  aloud  at  the  display 
of  ignorance.  Did  she  think  turtles  were  kept  in 
cages  to  sit  on  a  perch  and  sing  like  canaries? 
Perhaps  she  wanted  to  dress  him  up  in  doll 
clothes,  and  hold  him  in  her  arms  to  rock  to  sleep. 
He  wouldn't  be  surprised  at  anything  the  Lamb 
did,  only,  as  a  gentle  hint  in  favor  of  saving  the 
pixie  king's  life  he  would  suggest  a  bowl  filled 
with  water,  and  having  some  sand  in  the  bottom, 
and  a  plentiful  diet  of  flies  to  tempt  the  pixie 
king's  dainty  appetite.  All  of  which  wras  done,  and 
the  bowl  placed  on  the  window-sill  at  the  Lamb's 
elbow,  where  she  could  exchange  confidences  with 
her  new  pet  So  it  came  to  pass  that,  between 
operating  the  secret  cable,  and  catching  flies  on 
the  window  pane  for  the  unlimited  desire  of  the 
pixie  king,  the  days  of  captivity  passed  faster  for 
the  fair  lady  of  the  Palace,  and  she  was  kept  from 
absolutely  pining  in  her  castle  dungeon;  until, 
when  July  came,  it  brought  the  day  when  she  was 


ioo  Rook's  Nest 

to  go  out  once  more — not  just  to  be  brought  out 
into  the  garden  to  sit  there  and  watch  the  others 
have  a  good  time,  but  the  day  when  she  could 
walk  and  run  again  like  the  same  old  Dora. 

It  was  to  be  on  Saturday  afternoon,  and  Mug- 
gins was  hurrying  with  all  her  household  duties 
as  fast  as  she  could  so  as  to  give  her  undivided 
attention  to  the  recovered  circus  queen. 

"  Say,  Muggins,"  Billie  said,  in  a  low,  confiden- 
tial tone  as  he  paused  at  the  kitchen  door.  "  Just 
keep  the  lamb  quiet,  will  you,  and  out  of  sight  of 
the  back  road  through  the  fields.  "We've  got  a 
secret." 

"Oh,  you're  always  fussing  over  a  secret," 
laughed  Marjoric,  as  she  looked  up,  flushed  and 
warm  from  the  baking.  "  I  suppose  Bob's  in  it, 
too." 

"Course  he  is,"  returned  Billie,  heartily,  then 
he  added,  with  a  winning  smile  meant  to  touch  the 
heart  of  the  cook :  "  If  there  is  one  thing  on  earth 
I  love  to  eat  right  off  as  soon  as  it's  cooked,  it's 
gingerbread.  Do  you  cut  your  gingerbread  when 
it's  hot,  old  lady?" 

"I  do  when  it's  for  two  such  treasures  as  you 
boys,"  said  the  cook,  willingly,  and  Billie  went  off 
toward  the  river  with  two  generous  squares  of  rich 
golden  brown  gingerbread  in  his  hands,  just  hot 
from  the  oven. 


Day  Dreams  and  Air  Castles       101 

"  How  you  spoil  those  boys,"  came  a  low,  easy 
voice  from  the  open  window  of  the  "  ell,"  where 
Avis'  yellow  hair  showed  above  the  writing- 
«l«-sk.  She  was  finishing  a  chapter,  as  usual,  or 
beginning  one,  and  the  spirit  of  the  Muse  was  on 
lu T  in  full  force,  therefore  she  had  retired  early 
in  the  morning,  taking  sanctuary  in  the  school- 
room afar  from  her  house  work  and  all  distracting 
events.  This  last  story  was  to  be  a  master-piece. 
There  was  no  doubt  about  it  in  her  mind  or  in 
Marjorie's  either.  Every  day  her  royal  highness 
added  to  it,  and  every  night  after  the  rest  were 
asleep  she  read  it  to  Marjorie  as  they  sat  under 
the  shadow  of  the  big  four-poster  in  their  night 
gowns. 

"  Can't  spoil  a  good  thing,"  Muggins  replied, 
merrily,  piling  the  cooking  dishes  in  the  dish  pan, 
and  starting  for  the  tea  kettle.  "  I'd  give  them 
anything  they  wanted  if  I  could." 

"  A  gun  that  shoots  for  Billie,  and  an  art  edu- 
cation for  Rob,"  Avis  said,  idly,  balancing  her  pen 
on  her  finger.  Muggins  looked  up  with  a  look  of 
frank  astonishment. 

"  How  did  you  know  Bob  wanted  an  art  educa- 
tion ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know ;  I  think  I  heard  Billie  tell- 
ing the  Lamb,  or  else  you  said  something  about 
it,"  and  her  royal  highness  did  not  meet  the 


102  Rook's  Nest 

straight  gaze  of  the  brown  eyes  at  the  kitchen 
window. 

Muggins  whistled.  It  was  another  one  of  the 
bad  habits  she  had  learned  from  Billie,  but  she 
did  not  say  anything. 

"  I  think  it's  so  queer,"  Avis  went  on,  thought- 
fully, "  the  idea  of  a  big,  awkward  farm  boy  like 
that  wanting  an  art  education.  It  seems  so  hard 
that  anyone  should  have  an  ambition  of  that  kind 
in  them  when  it  is  impossible  for  them  to  win  it 
— when  they  have  no  money." 

Her  voice  sank  lower  and  lower,  and  the  last 
words  Marjorie  just  caught  faintly,  but  a  quick 
look  of  anxiety  shone  in  her  eyes,  and  she  asked 
impulsively : 

"  Aren't  you  happy  here,  Avis  dear  ?  " 

The  head  at  the  ell  window  vanished,  and  in 
another  moment  its  owner  was  in  the  kitchen. 

"  I'll  help  you  with  those  dishes,"  she  said,  tak- 
ing the  towel  from  Muggins'  hand.  "  Where  did 
the  boys  go  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  and  don't  care  a  rap  about  it," 
replied  Muggins,  briefly,  "  I  want  to  know  whether 
you  are  happy  here  ?  " 

There  was  a  silence  for  some  time,  and  at  last 
Avis  said  in  her  firm,  womanly  way  : 

"  No,  dear,  I  am  not.  I  do  not  care  for  the 
things  you  love  to  do.  I  hate  house  work  and  I 


Day  Dreams  and  Air  Castles       103 

hate  all  the  miserable  little  scrimping  ami  saving 
we  have  to  do  to  get  along.  I  want  to  make  a 
giv;it  success  of  my  writing.  I  want  to  make  you 
all  rich,  and  give  you  something  better  than  this 
tumble  down  little  place.  I  want — oh,  Margie, 
how  can  I  make  you  understand  how  much  I 
want,  and  why  I  am  not  happy." 

Marjorio  looked  at  her  in  silence,  looked  at  her 
with  a  mingled  love  and  disappointment  that  she 
could  not  conceal.  And  yet  she  knew  it  was  all 
true,  too,  and  perhaps  that  knowledge  hurt  worse 
than  if  only  the  fear  of  its  being  true  had  been  in 
her  heart.  Happy?  Why,  she  never  thought 
about  whether  she  was  happy  or  not,  any  more 
than  she  did  about  whether  she  was  alive  or  not. 
It  was  simply  a  sure  thing.  She  had  grown  to 
love  the  little  "  tumble  down  place,"  as  home,  their 
very  own  home,  and  then  there  were  the  little 
ones,  too,  the  menagerie,  to  love  and  care  for.  She 
never  had  time  to  sit  and  wonder  whether  she  was 
happy  or  not.  But  of  course,  it  was  all  so  differ- 
ent with  Avis.  She  was  clever. 

"Say,  Muggins,"  came  Dora's  plaintive  tones 
from  the  sitting-room,  "  when  can  I  come  out  ?  " 

"  When  I  get  the  work  done,  girlie,"  said  Mar- 
jorie,  with  a  little  half  sigh. 

"  Haven't  you  anything  to  say  to  me  ?  "  asked 
Avis,  raising  her  dreamy  eyes  with  a  look  of  re- 


104  Rook's  Nest 

proach.  Marjorie  had  always  supported  her 
loyally  before.  She  had  thought  she  would  un- 
derstand. She  did  not  know  how  her  words  had 
hurt. 

"  No,  not  a  single  thing,"  Marjorie  said,  shaking 
her  head,  "  you  are  different  from  the  rest  of  us — 
I  suppose  you  can't  help  it,  so  I  haven't  anything 
to  say.  Go  away  and  write.  I'd  rather  do  the 
work  alone." 

Avis  went,  and  stayed  as  much  as  ten  minutes, 
but  somehow  the  Muse  was  shy,  and  evaded  her, 
and  in  her  place  came  up  the  memory  of  Mar- 
jorie's  face  as  she  had  looked  at  her. 

At  last  she  rose  and  took  up  the  book  of  Tenny- 
son lying  at  her  hand,  and  went  back  to  the 
kitchen,  where  Muggins  was  down  on  her  hands 
and  knees  cleaning  up  the  floor.  She  never  would 
allow  Avis  to  do  any  of  that  sort  of  work  because 
it  made  her  hands  red,  so  it  had  been  the  estab- 
lished custom  in  the  past  for  her  royal  highness 
to  draw  a  chair  up  in  the  entry  way  so  as  not  to 
touch  the  clean  floor,  and  there  she  would  sit  in 
state,  darning  stockings,  and  reading  poetry  aloud 
from  a  volume  on  her  lap.  But  to-day  Marjorie 
did  not  look  up  when  she  heard  the  chair  put  in 
its  accustomed  place,  and  Avis  hesitated.  At  last 
after  another  glance  at  the  slim  little  figure  down 
on  the  floor  scrubbing  for  dear  life,  she  said : 


Day  Dreams  and  Air  Castles       105 

"Last  time  we  read  'The  Coming  of  Arthur,' 
but  it  was  so  long,  you  know.  I'm  going  to  try 
some  of  tho  shorter  ones  to-day." 

Still  there  was  no  reply,  and  she  opened  the 
book  and  began  to  read.  The  old  wooden  clock 
that  Rob  had  sent  over  to  them  from  his  store  of 
useful  curiousities,  ticked  steadily  on,  many  times, 
and  still  the  low,  sweet  voice  read  on,  and  still 
Muggins  said  not  a  word.  Finally,  though,  she 
stopped  abruptly,  and  sat  back,  her  hands  clasped 
around  her  knees. 

"Billie  ought  to  go  to  school,"  she  said,  sol- 
emnly. 

"  Well  ?  "  Avis  looked  up  inquiringly. 

"  Well,"  Marjorie  repeated,  "  I'm  wondering  what 
I  am  going  to  do.  And  I'm  wondering,  too,  what 
we  are  going  to  do  when  the  last  of  the  money  is 
gone." 

"  Marjorie,  dear,  don't  you  be  a  bit  afraid,  a  way 
will  come,"  said  Avis.  "I  never  bother  about 
those  little  things.  Listen  to  this,  the  rest  about 
the  mermaid  and  the  bold  merry  mermen : 

"  They  would  sue  me,  and  woo  me,  and  flatter  me, 
In  the  purple  twilights  under  the  sea; 
But  the  king  of  them  all  should  carry  me, 
Woo  me,  and  win  me,  and  marry  me  "- 

"  Oh,  I  don't  like  that,"  said  Marjorie,  scrubbing 


io6  Rook's  Nest 

hard.  "  She  was  so  silly  with  her  flowing  ring- 
lets and  her  sea  bud  crown.  Skip  it." 

"  I  don't  think  she  was  silly — for  a  mermaid," 
Avis  answered,  dreamily.  "  Of  course  you  would 
never  do  such  things,  but  I  would.  Think  of 
yourself,  Muggins,  on  a  great  throne,  with  the  sea 
snake  coiled  around  for  love  of  you  " 

"  Ugh  !  "  said  Marjorie,  shaking  back  her  curls 
with  a  shiver,  "  no,  I  thank  you." 

"  Or  think  of  Hob  Rogers  chasing  around,  play- 
ing tag  with  the  mermaids,  'in  the  purple  twi- 
lights under  the  sea,'  "  Avis  smiled  as  she  spoke, 
and  Muggins'  ire  promptly  rose  in  defense  of  her 
favorite. 

"  I  don't  care,"  she  said,  warmly,  "  he  tried  to 
save  Dora  when  the  rest  of  us  couldn't  stir,  and 
he's  a  splendid  boy,  and  I  don't  think  you  have 
any  reason  for  being  so — so  silly,  Avis." 

"Silly?"  Avis  rose  from  the  chair.  Silly? 
She  silly  ?  It  was  too  much. 

"Yes,  ma'am,  silly,"  said  Muggins,  firmly,  and 
she  would  have  gone  on  but  for  a  gesture  of  warn- 
ing from  Avis  as  the  latter  beat  a  hasty  retreat. 

"  Hello,  Margie,"  Rob  said,  his  head  and  shoul- 
ders appearing  at  the  window.  "  Is  Dora  ready  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir-ree,"  called  that  maiden  all  forlorn. 
"I've  been  waiting  for  Muggins  and  Avis  to  get 
through  scrapping" 


Day  Dreams  and  Air  Castles       107 

"Dora,"  Marjorie  interrupted,  hastily,  but  the 
Lamb  ignored  her. 

"  Scrapping,  that's  what  Billie  and  I  call  it,  and 
now,  what  have  you  got  behind  you  ?  " 

"  You  march  out  here,  and  find  out,"  called 
Billie,  from  the  yard,  and  accordingly  his  compan- 
ion accepted  the  invitation  and  marched. 

And  lo!  The  colt,  the  fiery,  untamed  colt, 
gentle  and  docile  as  a  kitten,  standing  in  all  hu- 
mility at  the  doorstep,  with  a  saddle  and  bridle 
on,  and  his  shaggy  coat  trim  and  satiny. 

"  What's  it  for  ?  "  gasped  the  Lamb,  reaching 
out  her  hand  to  pat  the  slim,  pretty  nose. 

"  For  the  Lady  Lambkin  with  the  love  and  best 
wishes  of  her  old  friend,  Mr.  Benjamin  Rogers," 
said  Rob,  gravely.  "Father  thought  you  had  the 
best  right  to  him.  Come  up." 

It  was  a  great  moment  for  Dora.  She  stepped 
from  the  doorstep  to  Rob's  hand,  and  so  mounted 
to  the  saddle,  and  instead  of  the  wild  break  for 
liberty  which  Darling  had  made  on  a  similar  occa- 
sion, he  lifted  his  head  proudly  and  walked  with 
dainty,  careful  steps  down  the  pathway  to  the 
road,  Rob  following  on  Sinbad. 

When  they  had  passed  out  of  sight,  Billie 
turned  to  the  girls  with  a  quizzical  look. 

"  Did  he  tell  you  ?  "  he  asked,  shortly. 

Marjorie's  gaze,  which  still  rested  lovingly  on 


io8  Rook's  Nest 

the  last  bend  of  the  path,  returned  to  his  face  in 
surprise. 

"  Tell  what  ?  "  she  said,  and  her  royal  highness 
was  turning  away,  when  Billie's  words  made  her 
pause. 

"  Oh,  nothing  much,"  he  said,  gloomily,  as  he 
thrust  his  hands  into  his  pockets,  and  turned  his 
head  away  so  that  they  could  not  see  his  face. 
"  Only — only  Rob's  going  off  next  week  to  try  his 
luck  in  the  world,  and  I  guess  we're  going  to  miss 
him  some." 


CHAPTER  VH 
The  Black  Pirate  Sails 

IT  was  not  one  of  Billie's  jokes,  as  Muggins 
half  believed  at  first,  but  all  quite  true.  Bob  was 
to  go  away  to  Chicago  to  study  drawing  and 
sketching — art,  as  Avis  called  it ;  and  then  began 
a  period  of  weeping  and  wailing  and  gnashing  of 
teeth  on  the  part  of  the  menagerie  for  Ked  Rover, 
the  hero  of  their  hearts.  The  Owl  and  the  Lion 
tagged  after  him  devotedly  whenever  there  was  a 
shadow  of  a  chance,  and  Dora  shed  many  a  tear 
on  Darling's  rough  mane  in  the  privacy  of  the  barn. 

But  Billie  and  Muggins  displayed  far  different 
sentiments.  Not  but  what  they  were  sorry  to 
have  Rob  go,  only  they  were  sorry  in  a  gloriously 
self-sacrificing,  Spartan  spirit;  for  was  not  the 
Red  Rover  going  forth  to  battle,  the  hardest  battle 
of  all  to  fight,  the  battle  of  life  ?  Then  how  silly 
it  was  to  cry  about  it,  Billie  told  the  Lamb.  He 
only  wished  that  he  were  in  Rob's  shoes,  going 
away  off  to  the  city  to  hustle  and  get  rich. 

"  Yes,  and  perhaps  we'll  never  see  him  again  at 
all,"  Dora  said,  dismally,  her  face  woe  begone  and 

109 


no  Rook's  Nest 

her  nose  red  as  a  cherry.  Dora  never  looked  nice 
when  she  cried.  Now  when  the  Owl  wept,  there 
were  just  a  few  little  tear  drops  that  trickled  down 
her  cheeks  like  dew  on  lily  petals,  and  she  looked 
sweeter  and  daintier  than  ever  for  the  shower; 
but  when  the  Lamb  wept,  she  wept  in  a  wild, 
abandoned,  tempestuous  fashion,  which  played 
havoc  with  her  rosy  countenance  made  for  smiles 
and  dimples.  Her  eyelids  were  red,  her  nose 
was  red,  and  her  cheeks  flushed  and  wet,  and  all 
she  needed  was  sackcloth  and  ashes  in  order  to 
start  a  little  wail  ing-place  of  her  own  just  on  the 
strength  of  her  appearance. 

Billie  stood  and  looked  at  her  now,  in  dark 
browed  disapproval,  his  feet  wide  apart,  his  hands 
deep  in  his  pockets. 

"  Dora,  you  haven't  caught  on,"  he  said,  at  last, 
shaking  his  head.  "You  don't  see  the  point. 
Now,  look  here,  if  there  were  a  great  big  balloon 
out  in  this  yard  all  ready  to  go  up  as  soon  as  you 
cut  the  rope,  wouldn't  you  go  ?  " 

"Yes,  'course  I  would,"  returned  the  Lamb, 
stoutly.  Never  should  it  be  said  that  fear  held 
her  back  from  any  deed  of  daring.  "But  I 
wouldn't  want  you  or  Kob  or  Muggins  to  go, 
'cause  you  might  tumble.  Don't  you  see  ?  " 

Billle's  look  changed  to  one  of  mild  compas- 
sion. 


The  Black  Pirate  Sails  in 

"You  can't  help  it,  Dora,"  he  said,  with  a 
patient  sigh.  "  You  can  chum  with  me  all  you 
want  to,  climb  trees,  chase  bugs,  and  holler,  and 
do  all  those  things,  and  you  can  keep  a  secret, 
too ;  but  you're  only  a  girl,  and  you  can't  help  it 
You  don't  care  a  rap  about  Bob's  being  a  hero  and 
getting  famous  so  that  everybody  in  the  whole 
world  will  want  his  picture  and  autograph.  Of 
course  you  don't  You'd  rather  have  him  peg 
away  on  this  old  farm  all  his  life,  and  never  do 
anything  better  than  to  draw  a  picture  of  Avis  try- 
ing to  climb  a  ladder ;  you'd  rather  have  him  stay 
here,  I  say,  just  because  you  want  him  around. 
If  that  isn't  like  a  girl,  then  I  want  to  know  what 
is !  But  you  can't  help  it'* 

Here  Dora  positively  declined  discussing  the 
matter  any  further.  She  would  not  be  called 
names  by  William  Randall  or  any  one  else. 

"Didn't  call  you  names,"  Billie  retorted  after 
the  retreating  form.  "  Just  called  you  a  girl." 

"  You  called  me  only  a  girl,"  said  the  Lamb,  in- 
dignantly, "  and  that's  all  "Winnie  is." 

"  Oh,  come  back,"  Billie  teased,  "  I  didn't  mean 
that,  you  know  I  didn't  You  know  I  think  you're 
a  brick  " 

But  Dora  had  vanished  into  the  Palace  of  a 
Thousand  Delights.  Only  the  love  of  Darling 
could  pour  balm  on  her  aching  heart 


ii2  Rook's  Nest 

"I  know  you  will  succeed,"  Marjorie  said,  the 
last  day  when  Rob  came  to  the  Castle,  and  her 
eyes  were  bright  and  her  smile  was  brave  as 
she  looked  up  at  his  figure  that  took  up  so 
much  room  in  the  little  schoolroom,  so  tall  and 
stalwart  it  was,  and  yet  boyish,  too,  with  the 
frank,  earnest  face  above. 

Avis  was  sitting  beside  her  desk.  She  had  half 
turned  in  her  chair  when  Rob  entered,  and  now 
sat  looking  at  them  both,  her  elbow  on  the  back 
of  the  chair,  and  her  cheek  on  her  palm.  The 
desk  was  overspread  with  loose  sheets  of  paper, 
and  had  quite  a  business-like  air,  and,  as  he  spoke 
to  Marjorie,  Rob's  gaze  rested  on  Avis,  on  her 
long,  fair  hair,  her  slim,  white  hands — even  the 
one  that  held  the  pen  and  bore  the  ever  present 
blot,  had  an  attraction  for  him — and  he  wondered 
if  she  would  say  she  was  sorry  he  was  going 
away.  But  she  did  not.  Instead,  she  looked  at 
him  with  her  thoughtful,  blue  eyes,  and  asked : 

"  Aren't  you  glad  you're  going  ?  " 

"  In  a  way,  yes,"  Rob  said,  hesitatingly,  wishing 
she  would  not  say  such  things ;  but  Avis  was  not 
thinking  of  him  or  his  wishes.  She  was  longing 
with  her  whole  heart  to  be  in  his  place,  to  be  go- 
ing out  as  he  was,  to  follow  her  chosen  path,  and 
win  the  treasures  it  lead  to. 

Marjorie   laughed  and  chatted  with  him,  and 


The  Black  Pirate  Saik  113 

him  an  immense  amount  of  good  advice  as 
sh<>  stood  beside  him,  barely  reaching  to  his  shoul- 
der ;  but  Avis  was  silent  save  when  she  gave  him 
her  hand  in  her  gentle  lady-like  way,  and  said 
good-bye,  ard  then  the  menagerie  rushed  in  to  es- 
cort him  to  the  station  in  mournful  state,  and  the 
parting  was  over.  The  two  girls  stood  in  the  door- 
way, and  watched  the  little  procession  as  it  passed 
down  the  path,  the  Lion  perched  high  on  Rob's 
shoulder,  the  girls  clinging  to  his  hands,  and 
Billie  stalking  a  little  ahead,  a  bodyguard  of  one. 

Marjorie's  eyes  slowly  filled,  and  when  they 
were  out  of  sight,  she  laid  her  head  against  the 
doorway,  and  was  very  quiet ;  but  Avis'  face  was 
bright  and  excited,  and  she  said,  with  a  sigh : 

"  Oh,  I  wish  I  were  a  boy." 

So  passed  Red  Rover  from  out  the  Nest  life, 
gone  forth  like  a  true  knight  to  seek  his  fortune, 
and  conquer  the  world,  with  hopes  so  great  that 
even  her  royal  highness  herself  could  not  have 
dreamed  fairer  ones.  And  very  lonesome  and  com- 
monplace seemed  the  life  at  the  little  house  with- 
out his  ready  help  and  cheery  laugh.  Even  Mr. 
Keith  could  not  take  his  place,  although  he  was  a 
constant  visitor  at  the  Nest,  and  a  favorite  with  all. 

Billie  had  all  the  departed  one's  pets  now. 
Pigeons,  doves,  mice,  'possums,  squirrels,  rabbits ; 
even  Sinbad  was  stalled  beside  Darling  in  the  Pal- 


ii4  Rook's  Nest 

ace  of  a  Thousand  delights  as  his  master  had  com- 
manded ;  and  altogether  the  Nest  and  the  Palace 
had  about  as  large  a  population  as  they  could 
support. 

It  seemed  as  though  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Rogers  had 
adopted  the  family  now  that  their  boy  was  gone. 
Not  a  single  day  passed  but  what  some  thoughtful 
little  offering  was  sent  over  from  the  big  farm,  and 
the  menagerie  waxed  fat  and  joyous  on  a  luxurious 
fare  of  cream,  and  fruit,  and  many  things  delight- 
ful unto  their  capricious  appetites,  and  Muggins 
laughed,  and  said  that  they  were  being  bribed 
from  their  loyalty  to  the  Nest. 

Two  whole  months  had  passed  by  since  the 
night  when  they  had  sat  under  the  lilacs  and 
feasted  on  apple  blossoms. 

To  be  sure,  not  a  foot  of  land  on  their  five  acres 
had  yielded  any  more  substantial  crop  than  ber- 
ries and  blossoms ;  but  what  did  that  matter, 
Billie  said.  They  had  rented  two  acres  of  pasture- 
land  along  the  creek  to  Mr.  Rogers  and  he  had 
proved  a  highly  desirable  tenant.  Butter,  milk, 
and  all  the  treasures  of  his  back  garden  were  at 
the  disposal  of  Princess  Muggins  and  her  brood, 
and  only  the  lack  of  ready  money  ever  awakened 
the  Princess  to  a  realization  of  their  true  position. 

"A  slight  financial  stringency,"  Billie  would 
say,  airily.  "  That's  what  Avis  says  in  her  stories 


The  Black  Pirate  Sails  115 

about  poor  folks,  and  it's  great.  It  makes  you 
feel  like  a  big  bankrupt,  and  as  if  you  had  lost 
millions,  instead  of  a  measly  ten  dollars.  We're 
poor  folks,  aren't  we,  Muggins?  Poor  and 
needy  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Billie,  will  you  keep  still  ?  "  pleaded  Avis. 
"  I  can't  concentrate  my  thoughts  at  all." 

"  Ha !  Listen  to  her  royal  Ink  Blotness.  There's 
another  beauty.  Can't  concentrate  my  thoughts." 

William  sank  into  a  chair  and  leaned  his  brow  on 
his  hand  as  he  waved  the  Lion  back  majestically. 

"Go  away,  infant.  I  want  to  concentrate  my 
thoughts,  too,"  he  said,  solemnly,  and  the  Lion  fled. 

"  I  think  it's  awful,"  exclaimed  Avis,  gathering 
up  her  papers  in  high  dudgeon.  "  You  all  make 
fun  of  my  writing  and  study.  It  isn't  fair  at  all. 
Some  day  " 

"  Oh,  some  day,  some  day,  you  may  fly  away  in 
a  soap  bubble  and  frighten  the  mosquitoes  to 
death,"  interrupted  Billie,  loftily.  "  If  you'd  stop 
dreaming  about  what  may  happen  some  day,  and 
wake  up  to-day,  it  would  be  better  for  all  of  us. 
Look  at  Rob.  He  doesn't  dream." 

But  Avis  had  departed,  and  after  a  few  minutes 
they  saw  her  going  across  lots  toward  the  woods 
with  her  roll  of  paper,  and  a  book  under  her  arm. 
Billie  whistled,  and  Muggins  sighed,  an  anxioua 
pucker  of  wrinkles  between  her  eyebrows. 


n6  Rook's  Nest 

"  You  always  say  the  wrong  thing  to  Avis,"  she 
said. 

"Don't  care  if  I  do,"  retorted  Billie,  boldly. 
"  She  thinks  she's  so  smart.  Thinks  she's  a  little 
statuette  just  made  to  stand  on  a  mantel,  and  smile 
and  say  'Please  keep  the  dust  off.'  I  love  to 
ruffle  her  up,  and  see  her  act  like  Rob's  bantam 
when  you  peg  corn  at  him.  All  she  does  is  just 
to  shut  herself  up  in  that  room,  and  scribble, 
scratch,  scribble,  scratch,  all  day  long,  and  noth- 
ing ever  comes  of  it  at  all,  does  it  ?  I  don't  see 
showers  of  gold  tumbling  over  her.  If  she  doesn't 
look  out  she'll  get  under  the  wrong  bucket,  like 
that  girl  in  the  fairy  story  you  read,  and  get  a 
shower  of  pitch  instead." 

Marjorie,  however,  would  not  listen  to  such 
talk.  Avis  was  clever,  ever  so  much  more  clever 
than  the  rest  of  them.  It  was  natural  for  her  to 
be  rather  odd.  Weren't  all  clever  people  odd  ? 

"  Yes,  but  they  aren't  all  cranks,  and  don't  have 
to  concentrate  their  thoughts  all  the  time  ; "  with 
which  parting  shot,  Billie  stalked  away  to  the  barn 
where  the  Lamb  held  sway,  to  pour  forth  his 
sentiments  into  her  sympathetic  ear.  They  were 
heartily  against  Avis  and  her  eternal  "  chapters," 
and  both  decided,  as  always,  that  Muggins  was 
the  only  brick. 

But  the  Owl  and  the  Lion  were  under  the  lilacs 


The  Black  Pirate  Sails  117 

in  the  coolest  corner  of  the  garden,  talking  it  over 
in  an  entirely  different  lighi  Avis  was  nothing 
more  nor  less  than  a  fairy  princess,  Winnie  had 
long  since  decided.  Had  she  not  golden  hair  and 
blue  eyes  just  as  they  always  had?  "Who  ever 
heard  of  a  fairy  princess  with  short,  brown  curly 
hair  like  Muggins.  No,  Avis  was  the  real  one, 
and  Winnie  talked  and  talked  to  the  Lion  about  it 
until  his  eyes  grew  rounder  than  ever,  and  he 
listened  breathlessly. 

"  You  must  have  a  fairy  godmother,  you  know, 
to  be  an  honest  and  true  princess,"  the  Owl  was 
saying,  gravely,  "and  you  never  see  her,  'cause 
she's  a  fairy ;  but  she  always  looks  after  you,  and 
sometimes  she  changes  herself  into  a  butterfly  or  a 
flower  and  then  you  see  her,  but  don't  know  it's  her." 

The  Lion  moved  uneasily  away  from  a  clover 
blossom  beside  him  and  looked  askance  at  the 
tiny  pale  blue  butterfly  on  it  Whenever  Winnie 
told  him  fairy  tales,  he  was  always  scared  for  an 
hour  afterward — for  fear  he  would  step  on  a 
flower  or  hurt  a  butterfly  or  bee,  or  something  that 
might  be  a  fairy  in  disguise.  It  was  very  trouble- 
some. 

"  So  I  think  Avis  had  one,"  went  on  the  OwL 
"  And  she's  going  to  be  something  won-der-ful ! 
And  you  know  how  she  goes  to  the  woods  for  so 
long.  Well,  I  think  she  sees  them  there !  " 


n8  Rook's  Nest 

"  Theeth  what  ?  "  inquired  Reggie,  in  an  anxious 
whisper. 

"  Fairies.  All  kinds.  And  they  twine  flowers 
in  her  lovely  golden  hair,  and  kiss  her,  and  dance 
around  her."  Winnie  had  closed  her  eyes,  and 
was  rocking  herself  to  and  fro,  her  hands  clasped 
across  her  knees. 

"Leth  go  an  thee,  too,"  suggested  the  Lion. 
"  Can't  we  thee,  too  ?  " 

"Not  unless  you've  got  a  pink  violet,  and  a  ten- 
leaf  clover,"  replied  Winnie,  wisely.  "And  you 
ought  to  have  a  magic  bullrush  for  a  wand." 

"  Leth  go  find  'em,"  and  there  was  no  resisting 
the  entreaty  in  the  plaintive  voice.  Winnie  always 
believed  faithfully  in  her  own  make  believes ;  so 
now,  nothing  loath,  she  prepared  to  start  off  in 
quest  of  the  pink  violet,  the  ten-leaf  clover,  and 
the  bullrush. 

Marjorie  was  singing  in  the  kitchen  at  the  top 
of  her  strong  young  voice,  and  never  noticed  the 
two  figures  which  started  off  in  Avis'  tracks  toward 
the  woods  down  in  the  deep  ravine.  The  world 
is  wonderful  when  you  only  reach  as  high  as  the 
second  rail  from  the  top  of  the  bars  in  the  pas- 
ture. The  daisies  come  up  to  your  waist,  and  the 
low  sumac  bushes  are  spreading  trees.  The  two 
runaways  went  leisurely  past  the  barn,  and  on 
through  the  pasture.  Up  at  the  barn-window  sat 


The  Black  Pirate  Sails  119 

Billie  and  the  Lamb,  and  they  saw  the  two  go  on 
and  on,  and  finally  climb  the  fence  and  go  toward 
the  ravine. 

"  They'll  get  in  the  swamp/'  said  Dora,  medita- 
tively. "  Bet  a  cookie  Muggins  doesn't  know.  I 
suppose  we  ought  to  go  after  them." 

"No,  sir-ree  bob,  we  hadn't,"  replied  Billie, 
firmly.  "  I  want  to  talk  business.  Avis  is  down 
there  somewhere." 

So  no  one  disturbed  the  peaceful  tenor  of  the 
tramps'  way,  and  Winnie  was  far  too  wise  to  be 
entrapped  in  the  maze  of  a  bog. 

"  We'll  go  down  to  the  river,  Reggie,"  she  said, 
poising  herself  on  a  tree  stump  while  they  both 
munched  a  few  stray  black  raspberries  that  had 
rambled  over  the  stone  wall  on  straggling  vines. 
"Maybe  we'll  take  Billie's  boat  and  go  'round  to 
the  woods  that  way." 

"  You  can't  wow,"  returned  the  Lion,  skeptically. 
"  An'  then  the  water'th  all  gone  now.  Can't  wow 
wifout  water,  Winnie." 

"We'll  just  get  in,  and  push  the  boat  with  a 
pole  real  close  to  the  shore,"  said  the  Owl,  coax- 
ingly.  "I  saw  Rob  do  it  just  before  he  went 
away,  and  there's  a  little  water  yet,  'cause  Dora  and 
me  were  down  paddling  and  we  could  only  go  half- 
way across  the  river." 

The    vision  of  pushing   the    pole  all  by  their 


120  Rook's  Nest 

"  lonesomes,"  as  Billie  called  it,  was  too  much 
for  the  Lion.  He  succumbed,  and  trotted  tran- 
quilly after  Winnie  down  to  the  shore  of  the 
river. 

"When  they  had  first  come  to  East  Elmore  in 
the  spring,  the  river  had  been  a  great,  mighty 
stretch  of  dark  rain-swollen  water,  sending  turbu- 
lent little  streams  tumbling  helter-skelter  through 
the  ravines,  but  now  it  was  midsummer,  and  it 
was  only  a  flat,  lazy  affair,  so  low  that  the  water 
grasses  and  weeds  towered  rank  and  thick  above 
the  scant  foot  or  two  of  water,  and  only  the  min- 
nows, and  black  skipping  bugs,  haunted  the  sunlit 
shallows. 

"  Couldn't  get  drowned  if  you  stood  on  your 
head  in  that,"  Billie  had  said  contemptuously, 
when  Muggins  suggested  it  might  be  a  dangerous 
playground  ;  so  now  the  Owl  made  a  bee-line  cross 
lots  for  the  little  willow  cove  which  had  been 
Bob  and  Billie's  boat-house. 

The  flat-bottomed  boat  lay  as  the  boys  had  left 
it,  half  in  the  water,  half  up  on  the  thick,  wet 
grass.  It  was  a  black  craft;  and  on  the  prow 
Hob  had  painted  the  head  of  a  ferocious  looking 
pirate,  with  a  knife  between  his  teeth,  and  a  hand- 
kerchief tied  around  his  head.  Beneath  this  was 
written  "The  Black  Pirate."  Many  a  gallant 
cruise  had  been  taken  in  it  across  the  stormy 


The  Black  Pirate  Sails  121 

main  of  Fox  River,  when  Red  Rover  and  his  trust- 
ing comrade,  Deadshot  Billie,  had  raised  the  black 
flag,  and  sailed  for  parts  unknown. 

"I'm  captain,"  announced  Winnie,  confiden- 
tially, "  'cause  the  captain  poles,  and  you  must  sit 
still  and  make  believe  you  see  things." 

Reggie's  eyes  were  big  with  wonder  and  a  touch 
of  fear  as  he  dutifully  seated  himself  on  the  prow 
seat,  and  prepared  to  watch. 

"What  mutht  I  thee,  Winnie?"  he  asked, 
mildly.  "  Juth  bugth  ?  " 

"  Oh,  my,  no.  Great  big  sea  serpents  waggling 
their  tails  at  us,  and  dragons  looking  cross-eyed 
from  the  trees,  and — and  mermaids  with  gold 
shells  and  pearl  combs,  and  you  mustn't  call  me 
Winnie.  Call  me  Captain  Fairy  Rosebud." 

So  Captain  Fairy  Rosebud  pushed  lustily  with 
her  pole,  and  nearly  toppled  headlong  into  the 
river  at  the  first  push,  but  after  a  time  it  became 
easy,  and  "  The  Black  Pirate  "  traveled  at  the  rate 
of  three  feet  per  minute. 

"  Wish  we'd  find  something  won-ful,"  the  Owl 
said,  wistfully,  when  the  pole  began  to  grow 
clumsy  and  heavy.  "Wish  something  would 
happen,  honest  and  true." 

"Me,  too,"  answered  the  faithful  watcher, 
plaintively.  "  I  thee  another  thee  therpeni" 

But   the   announcement  failed   to   awaken   the 


122  Rook's  Nest 

enthusiasm  from  the  gallant  captain  which  the 
first  alarm  had. 

She  was  leaning  meditatively  on  her  pole,  look- 
ing at  the  shore  line.  They  were  down  to  the  first 
ravine  now,  where  the  miniature  canyon  ended  at 
the  river,  and  the  willows  grew  thickly  all  along 
the  banks. 

The  old  boat  drifted  lazily  shoreward,  1?ut  the 
gallant  captain  took  no  notice  of  the  danger  of 
being  stuck  in  the  soft  black  mud.  She  was 
bending  forward  staring  at  a  clump  of  willows 
ahead. 

"Reggie,"  she  whispered  at  last.  "Reggie, 
look  there !  Don't  you  see  anything  ?  Right 
down  where  that  big  log  sticks  out." 

"  Yeth.  I  do,  I  do,"  gasped  the  Lion,  joyously. 
"Frogth!" 

"  No,  it's  not  frogs.  It's  stones.  It's — a — it's 
a  cave ! " 

"  An'  a  thee  therpent,  Winnie  ?  " 

"Reggie  Randall,  it  isn't  a  make  believe  this 
time.  It's  honest  and  true."  The  boat  neared 
the  log,  and  Winnie  promptly  deserted  her  post, 
and  started  on  a  voyage  of  discovery,  leaving  the 
Lion  alone,  indignant  but  helpless.  He  watched 
her  as  she  made  her  way  up  the  beach  a  few 
yards,  and  saw  her  disappear  behind  the  willows. 
Whereupon  a  howl  of  exceeding  wrath  awoke  the 


The  Bkck  Pirate  Sails  123 

echoes,  and  there  was  weeping  and  wailing  from 
the  bold  pilot,  until  his  shipmate  put  in  her  ap- 
pearance. 

But  the  Owl  was  wise,  and  two  heads  bent  close 
together  as  she  told  of  her  grand  discovery,  and 
Reggie  was  mollified.  Then  after  a  few  minutes' 
struggle  with  the  boat  line,  the  two  tramped  up  to 
the  mysterious  spot,  and  vanished,  leaving  behind 
no  sign  of  their  whereabouts. 


CHAPTER 
Bread  and  Berries 

MEANWHILE  Muggins  had  finished  her  work,  and, 
taking  the  tin  berry  pails,  started  for  the  meadow 
corners  where  the  blackberries  grew.  She  was 
thinking  deeply  all  the  way,  and  when  she  caught 
sight  of  a  white  dress  fluttering  among  the  trees, 
she  gave  a  sigh  of  relief.  Somehow,  lately,  she 
had  not  had  as  many  of  the  old  free  confidential 
heart  chats  with  Avis  as  formerly.  Just  whose 
fault  it  was,  she  could  not  say ;  but  at  all  events 
she  was  glad  now  of  a  chance  to  talk  matters  over 
away  from  the  ears  of  the  menagerie. 

Avis  was  throned  in  clover  under  a  walnut-tree, 
her  papers  scattered  around  her,  her  hands  clasped 
behind  her  head,  dreaming.  "When  Muggins 
called  her  she  started  and  flushed  guiltily,  then 
rose  with  a  half  sigh. 

"Come  on  and  help,"  Muggins  said,  happily, 
pulling  her  sunbonnet  farther  over  her  face,  and 
smiling  at  Avis  out  of  its  shadowy  tunnel  depth. 
"  Takes  lots  to  go  round,  you  know." 

Avis  was  silent,  but  there  was  a  worried  look  on 

124 


Bread  and  Berries  125 

her  face  as  she  knelt  beside  Muggins  and  picked 
11  ic  great  luscious  black  beauties  from  the  heavy 
laden  vines  which  grew  along  the  stone  wall.  She 
knew  how  many  it  took  to  go  round  ; — knew,  too, 
how  much  harder  it  was  becoming  every  day  to 
find  enough  to  go  round  ; — and  if  it  were  so  now, 
in  the  full  ripeness  of  the  season's  treasures,  what 
would  it  be  in  winter?  As  it  was,  the  summer 
had  fairly  flown  by,  and  now  it  was  the  time  of 
yellow  daisies  and  ripening  apples  ;  and  still  there 
were  no  crops  to  be  harvested,  no  signs  of  any 
winter  store  for  the  six  grasshoppers,  who  danced 
in  the  sunshine  of  the  kingdom  called  Rattletibang. 

"  We're  just  living,  that's  all,"  Avis  said,  at  last, 
when  they  were  strolling  up  from  the  pasture. 
"  There  isn't  a  single  hope  ahead  for  us.  What 
do  you  suppose  we're  going  to  do  in  that  crazy 
little  place  when  winter  comes,  and  we'll  need  fires, 
and  all  sorts  of  things  ?  " 

"  We  ought  to  work  some  way,"  Muggins  said, 
in  a  low  tone,  her  face  worried  and  perplexed. 

"We  ought  to  do  something,"  Avis  returned, 
heartily.  "  I  don't  know  exactly  what  it  is  to  be, 
but  for  one  thing,  I  think  that  Billie  ought  to  stop 
spending  all  his  time  hunting  bugs.  What  good 
will  it  ever  do  him  or  us,  either  ?  He's  off  the 
first  thing  after  breakfast  with  Dora,  and  that's  all 
you  see  of  either  of  them  until  dinner  tune,  when 


126  Rook's  Nest 

they  come  back  crowing  over  some  old  beetle  or 
butterfly  they've  found." 

"But  he's  only  a  boy,  Avis,  after  all,"  pleaded 
Marjorie,  "  what  can  they  do  at  home  ?  " 

Avis  was  silent.  She  carried  a  pail  of  berries 
in  one  hand,  and  a  willow  switch  in  the  other,  and 
as  they  went  along  the  path  she  idly  beheaded  the 
the  tall  feathery  tipped  grasses  that  nodded  lazily 
on  either  side. 

"  I  think  we've  managed  pretty  well,"  Marjorie 
went  on.  "  It's  three  month's  since  we  came  to 
the  Nest,  and  we've  never  been  hungry  yet.". 

"  No,  but  we  would  have  been  if  the  Rogerses 
hadn't  looked  out  for  us,"  Avis  replied,  bluntly. 
Ever  since  Bob's  departure,  she  had,  as  Billie 
said  approvingly,  turned  over  a  new  leaf.  There 
was  less  time  spent  at  the  desk,  and  more  in  the 
kitchen,  and  she  had  taken  many  burdens  off  Mar- 
jorie's  shoulders.  The  only  thing  was,  that  in 
taking  the  burdens  she  wanted  to  take  the  author- 
ity also,  and  the  menagerie  rose  in  mutiny  over 
the  new  state  of  things,  for  the  new  task-master 
was  very  different  from  the  old  one. 

"Mrs.  Eogers  is  always  sending  something  over 
to  us,"  Avis  went  on,  "besides  the  milk  every 
night." 

"I  pay  for  the  milk,"  remonstrated  Marjorie, 
faintly. 


Bread  and  Berries  127 

"  Yes,  you  pay  for  it,"  and  there  was  a  fine  sar- 
casm in  her  royal  highness's  tone,  "you  pay  three 
cents  for  almost  four  quarts.  That's  a  great  price, 
isn't  it  ?  All  in  the  world  we  have  had  out  of  our 
own  place  are  the  eggs  and  berries  and  fruit,  and 
we  even  got  the  hens  from  the  Rogers  farm." 

"  Oh,  Avis,  don't  talk  so,"  Marjorie  raised  her 
head,  and  tried  to  look  impressive.  "The  chil- 
dren are  happy,  and  all  of  them  well " 

"  And  running  wild  as  colts,"  interrupted  Avis, 
firmly.  She  rather  liked  her  new  role  of  advis- 
ing and  admonishing  Muggins.  "Racing  about, 
climbing  trees,  and  nearly  breaking  their  necks." 

Marjorie  was  silent  When  Avis  once  started 
in  to  regulate  matters,  she  felt  perfectly  helpless 
to  stem  the  tide,  so  she  held  her  breath,  and  let  it 
come  and  go,  and  generally,  after  the  first  burst  of 
enthusiasm,  Avis  would  go  and  dream  awhile,  and 
Marjorie  would  have  her  own  way  just  the  same. 

"And,  Muggins  dear,  we  have  no  more  money." 
Avis  hesitated  for  a  moment,  but  she  had  made 
up  her  mind  as  to  her  course,  and  now  she  meant 
to  speak. 

Marjorie's  blue  sunbonnet  was  bent  forward  to 
the  ground,  and  her  face  unseen,  but  she  did  not 
speak. 

"  Muggins,  dear  ?  " 

"Yes'm." 


128  Rook's  Nest 

"  You  know  that  meadow  along  the  riverside  ?  " 

No  answer,  only  a  nod  of  the  sunbonnet,  but 
Avis  persevered  bravely. 

"  Well,  of  course,  it's  all  your  land  to  do  with  as 
you  like,  but  don't  you  remember  that  day  when 
we  went  boating,  how  old  Mr.  Rogers  said  he 
wished  he  had  that  piece  of  land,  and  that  when 
you  wanted  to  part  with  it,  you  could  come  to 
him?" 

Another  nod  of  the  sunbonnet. 

"  Well,  then,  why  don't  you  sell  it  to  him,  and 
take  half  pay  in  wood  and  vegetables  for  the 
winter." 

Marjorie  raised  her  head  and  looked  Avis 
squarely  in  the  eyes.  There  were  tears  in  her 
own,  but  her  voice  was  firm  and  steady  as  she 
said : 

"  I  can't  do  it." 

"Why  not?"  demanded  Avis,  in  surprise.  She 
had  thought  that  her  plan  was  the  key  to  the 
whole  situation. 

"Because,"  Marjorie  replied,  slowly,  "because, 
in  the  will  that  Mr.  Ellis  showed  me,  Uncle  Cher- 
rington  said  he  left  me  the  house  and  land  here, 
on  condition  that  I  never  sold  or  parted  with  any 
portion  of  it  any  way,  and  I  won't." 

Avis  frowned,  and  switched  the  heads  of  some 
wild  carrot  blossoms  off  with  an  impatient  gesture. 


Bread  and  Berries  129 

"  Do  you  suppose  for  one  moment  that  he  ever 
thought  all  of  us  children  would  be  trying  to  live 
in  that  little  place,  without  any  father  or  mother 
or  money  or  anything  ?  " 

She  stopped.  Her  voice  was  choked  with  sobs, 
and  she  dropped  the  pail  of  berries,  and  sat  down 
in  the  tall  grass,  her  face  hidden  in  her  arms. 
Marjorie  promptly  set  her  own  pail  down  with 
due  regard  for  its  contents,  and  knelt  beside  her, 
her  arms  around  the  other's  neck  while  she  waited 
until  she  had  finished  crying. 

"  Whatever  you  do,"  Billie  was  wont  to  say  in 
private  confidence  to  Marjorie,  "whatever  you  do, 
if  her  royal  highness  gets  to  weeping,  for  pity's 
sake  let  her  have  her  weep  out,  'caiise  it  will  take 
more  of  the  starch  out  of  her  than  anything  else 
will." 

Following  his  advice,  with  the  wisdom  of  past 
experience  to  support  her,  Marjorie  waited.  Over- 
head were  the  branches  of  an  apple-tree,  the  fruit 
with  which  they  were  laden  just  beginning  to  turn 
ruddy,  but  neither  of  the  girls  glanced  above  them. 

"  Avis,  I  can't,  I  won't  sell  a  foot  of  it,"  Marjorie 
said,  at  last,  and  there  was  an  earnest  resolution 
in  her  tone  that  showed  how  deeply  she  felt  "  It's 
all  we  have  of  our  own  in  the  world.  Why,  I'd 
rather  write  to  aunt  Bethiah  Newell  than  sell  the 
land." 


130  Rook's  Nest 

Avis  sat  up  instantly  at  the  sound  of  the  name, 
and  she  brushed  her  tears  hastily  away  from  her 
eyes. 

"  If  you  ever  did  such  a  thing  as  that,  Marjorie 
Randall,"  she  cried,  "  I  would  never  forgive  you, 
never.  The  idea  of  doing  that  after  the  way  they 
treated  poor  mamma." 

But  Marjorie  had  taken  her  stand  now,  and  was 
not  one  whit  afraid  to  hold  her  own. 

"It  was  grandpa  and  uncle  Harvey  who  did 
it,"  she  said,  firmly.  "Mamma  always  said 
grandma  was  good  to  her." 

"  Yes,  but  we  never  heard  of  aunt  Bethiah  one 
way  or  the  other,  and  now  she  and  uncle  Harvey 
have  all  the  money,  and  here  we  are  without  any. 
Muggins,  Muggins,  don't  write  to  them.  Do  have 
a  little  pride." 

"Haven't  got  a  bit  when  it  means  food  and 
comfort  for  the  little  ones  to  drop  it,"  laughed 
Marjorie,  and  then,  when  she  saw  the  look  on 
Avis's  face,  her  tone  changed.  "  Well,  something 
must  be  done,  I  see,  that  as  well  as  you,  dear. 
While  the  berries  last,  we  shan't  starve,  any  way. 
I've  got  just  ten  dollars  left  after  paying  Dr.  Til- 
ton,  and  buying  shoes  all  'round,  and  there  isn't 
a  single  thing  to  eat  at  home  except  bread.  I 
wish  we  could  all  creep  into  earth  holes  like 
moles,  and  sleep  until  spring  comes."  She  rose 


Bread  and  Berries  131 

with  &  weary  little  sigh,  and,  arm  in  arm,  the  two 
went  down  the  pathway  out  of  sight 

Then  began  a  strange  manifestation  about  the 
apple-tree.  First,  the  boughs  were  shaken,  and 
some  apples  fell,  then  came  a  sound  of  scraped 
bark,  and  of  scrambling  feet,  and  finally  two  ob- 
jects swung  hand  over  hand  like  monkeys,  down 
to  the  lowest  branches,  and  from  these  dropped 
to  the  ground  below,  where  they  lay  at  full  length 
for  two  whole  minutes,  munching  green  apples, 
and  solemnly  surveying  each  other. 

"  Something  must  be  done,"  cried  Billie,  heroic- 
ally, waving  the  core  of  his  tenth. 

"  That's  what  they  said,"  answered  the  Lamb, 
calmly,  "  and  neither  one  will  do  what  the  other 
one  wants  her  to." 

Silence  again,  broken  but  once  by  Billiers  low 
sorrowful  murmur. 

"  Ten  dollars  left.  Bread  and  berries.  Berries 
and  bread." 

Suddenly  a  light  broke  over  Dora's  face.  She 
threw  her  last  apple  frantically  at  an  inoffen- 
sive robin,  and  proceeded  to  do  her  favorite 
Feejee  dance.  Billie  watched  her  impassively 
until  she  was  through.  He  was  used  to  Dora's 
little  ways  of  expressing  sudden  emotion.  At 
last  she  stopped,  and  beckoned  Billie  to  come 
closer. 


132  Rook's  Nest 

"  Have  you  got  two  cents  ? "  she  whispered, 
mysteriously. 

"Nary  a  red  cent,"  Billie  answered,  calmly. 

"  Borrow  it  then,"  ordered  the  Lamb  in  the  same 
tone.  "  Borrow,  it  of  Mr.  Keith.  I've  got  a  plan." 

"  Fire  ahead.  I'm  listening,"  he  said,  and  there 
under  the  apple-trees  was  unfolded  the  plot  that 
was  to  bring  about  a  revolution  within  the  peace- 
ful walls  of  the  Nest.  By  sundown  the  whole 
plan  was  fully  hatched,  the  two  cents  borrowed 
under  a  solemn  vow  of  secrecy  from  Mr.  Keith, 
and  then  the  two  conspirators  went  to  supper  with 
light  hearts  and  faces  serene. 


CHAPTER  IX 
Billie  Manages  Things 

"  HAS  any  one  seen  the  wee  ones  ?  "  called  Mar- 
jorie,  from  the  kitchen,  as  the  two  passed  the  side 
window,  ami  Dora  paused  in  dismay.  It  was 
hours  since  she  and  Billie  had  seen  the  Owl 
and  the  Lion  start  cross  lots  riverward. 

"Don't  tell  her,"  whispered  Billie,  warningly. 
"'Cause  she'll  worry.  Let  me  tell  her."  He 
leaned  his  elbows  on  the  window-sill,  and  pressed 
his  face  close  against  the  mosquito  netting  so  that 
he  could  see  Marjorie. 

"  I  am  not  sure,"  he  said,  with  gentle  solemn- 
ity, "  and  you're  not  to  get  excited  or  have  a  pow- 
wow over  them,  Muggins,  but  I'm  afraid  they're 
gollopped  by  polliwogs." 

The  carving  knife  fell  to  the  floor,  and  Marjorie 
dashed  to  the  door. 

"  Billie,  did  you  let  them  go  to  the  river  ? " 
she  cried.  "  Avis,  look  out  for  the  kettle.  I'm 
going  "- 

But  all  at  once  she  stopped  short.  Coming  up 
the  path  from  the  barn  were  the  two  truants 
neither  crestfallen  or  repentant,  not  a  bit,  but 

133 


134  Rook's  Nest 

smiling  and  triumphant ;  in  fact,  there  was  quite 
a  dash  of  condescension  in  Winnie's  manner  as 
she  nodded  airily  to  the  Lord  and  Lady  of  the 
Palace,  and  the  Lion  began  at  once : 

"  You  don't  know  what  we  found  down " —  but 
the  Owl's  hand  quenched  all  further  information, 
and  the  two  went  on. 

"  There's  something  up,"  said  Dora,  decidedly, 
after  she  had  returned  Billie's  earnest  stare  for  a 
minute.  "  They've  got  a  secret." 

"So've  we,"  whispered  Billie,  with  a  chuckle. 
"  Come  on.  Let  them  have  their  little  mouse-in- 
the-hole  secrets.  Think  of  what  we  know." 

There  were  two  rival  factions  at  the  table  that 
night.  On  one  side  sat  the  Owl  and  the  Lion, 
jubilant  and  crowing,  and  on  the  other  Billie  and 
the  Lamb  serenely  superior  to  childish  fancies 
and  such  small  matters,  but  at  last  the  Owl's  at- 
tention was  diverted. 

"  Blackberries  again  ? "  she  said,  critically, 
" and  where's  the  butter?  " 

"We  have  none,  dear,"  Marjorie  said,  gently. 
"  You  must  do  the  best  you  can  without.  Billie, 
please  pass  the  bread." 

"  We've  had  berries  and  bread  for  breakfast  and 
supper  every  day  this  week,"  and  the  Owl's  voice 
was  one  of  injured  plaintiveness  as  she  refused  the 
preferred  bread. 


Billie  Manages  Things  135 

Marjorie  looked  sad,  and  a  trifle  grieved.  Avis 
was  silent  and  proud.  Billie  looked  from  one  to 
tlie  other,  and  seeing  no  relief  from  either  he  took 
matters  into  his  own  hands  as  the  silence  was 
growing  oppressive. 

"Good  for  you,  Winnie,"  he  said,  cheerily. 
"  I've  felt  the  same  myself,  only  I'm  more  bashful 
than  you,  you  know.  Let's  have  a  feast  to-night" 

"There  isn't  a  thing  to  eat  there,  Billie,"  re- 
marked Avis,  severely,  and  Marjorie  tried  to  give 
him  a  look  of  warning  as  he  made  a  raid  on  the 
pantry,  but  his  lordship  never  heeded  them. 
There  was  a  moment  of  suspense,  and  then  he  reap- 
peared with  Mrs.  Rogers'  cook-book  in  his  hand. 

"  Now,  then,  good  people,"  he  began,  perching 
himself  on  the  back  of  his  chair,  and  opening  the 
cook-book.  "  We  will  begin  this  banquet  with — 
ha — let  me  see — with  bride's  cake  and  chicken 
salad.  '  Four  pounds  of  sifted  flour,  four  pounds 
of  butter,'  you  hear  that  Winnie,  four  pounds  in 
one  lone  cake,  'beaten  to  a  cream,  two  pounds 
powdered  sugar,  two  dozen  eggs,  flavor  to  taste.' 
Muggins,  kindly  pass  Winnie  the  bride's  cake." 

Winnie  was  by  far  too  delighted  with  the  new 
'  make  believe '  to  refuse  the  bread  a  second  time, 
so  the  bride's  cake  was  passed  around  the  table, 
and  sampled  with  enthusiasm.  Next  came  the 
salad,  and  while  Billie  gravely  read  a  detailed  de* 


136  Rook's  Nest 

scription  of  it's  contents,  the  blackberries  were 
eaten  in  respectful  silence. 

"  We  will  now  try  croquettes,"  lie  said,  "  cocoa- 
nut  croquettes,  ladies,  served  with  whipped  cream. 
Dora,  get  the  bread  and  milk  bowls." 

The  feast  was  a  glorious  success.  When  it  came  to 
lady  fingers  and  jellied  quail,  which  Billie  insisted 
upon  classing  together,  because  he  said  they  would 
look  so  nice  side  by  side,  Avis  cut  slices  of  bread 
into  fancy  shapes,  and  more  berries  followed  as  quail. 

"  It  does  seem  real,"  Dora  said,  daintly  carving 
a  berry  in  two.  "  When  you  hear  all  about  what 
it  is  made  of,  and  you  are  eating  something  any- 
way, why  all  you  have  to  do  is  shut  your  eyes,  and 
listen  and  make  believe.  Billie,  you're  a  darling." 

"  Yes,  while  I've  been  feasting  you,  you've  been 
eating  my  berries,"  exclaimed  Billie,  pointing 
tragically  to  his  empty  plate. 

"  If  I  hadn't  taken  them  I  wouldn't  have  had 
any  jellied  quail,"  answered  the  Lamb,  demurely, 
"  and  I  didn't  want  to  disappoint  you  by  not  hav- 
ing any  quail,  you  know." 

"Well,  I  think  that's  the  miserliest  piece  of 
gormandizing  I  ever  heard  of,"  began  the  hungry 
hero,  but  Marjorie  laughed  as  she  brought  back 
the  dish  refilled  from  the  pantry. 

"  We  have  plenty  of  berries,"  she  said,  setting 
it  down  before  him. 


Billie  Manages  Things  137 

"  Yes,  plenty  of  bemes,  but  wliere's  the  chicken 
salad  and  deviled  tongue  and  soft  shell  crabs  and 
jellied  quail  that  you  folks  had,"  he  demanded, 
scornfully ;  "  Dora,  go  and  sit  up  there  on  the  wood 
box,  and  read  the  cook-book  to  me.  Bead  about 
pickles  and  puddings." 

It  was  a  splendid  scheme  they  all  agreed,  and 
every  meal  afterward  they  took  turns  sitting  on 
the  wood  box  and  reading  the  bill  of  fare  while 
the  rest  made  believe. 

The  days  went  by  with  leaden  feet  to  Billie  and 
the  Lamb.  Instead  of  roaming  after  the  beetles 
and  butterflies,  they  walked  hopefully  back  and 
forth  from  the  Nest  to  East  Elmore  post  office 
every  day  for  a  letter,  a  letter  from  far-off  Boston 
in  old  New  England,  from  Aunt  Bethiah  Newell. 
It  had  been  an  easy  matter  to  carry  out  the  plot. 
Uillie  had  smuggled  paper  and  pencil  to  the  barn, 
and  up  in  the  secret  chamber  of  the  Palace  they 
wrote  the  fateful  missive  to  Miss  Newell.  It  was 
a  queer  mixture  of  both  the  Lamb's  and  Billie's 
ideas,  and  when  it  was  done,  Billie  said  if  any- 
thing would  fetch  the  old  girl,  he  guessed  that 
would.  It  read : 

"  MY  DEAB  AUNT  BETHIAH  : 

"  I  thought  I  would  write  a  letter  to  let  you  know  that 
we  are  all  alive,  and  hope  you  are  the  same.  Muggins  did 
not  want  to  write  to  you  because  you  treated  mamma  so 


138  Rook's  Nest 

badly.  There  are  six  of  us,  and  I  am  Billie,  the  boy. 
Reggie,  is  a  boy,  too,  but  he  is  only  a  little  one.  We  live  at 
a  funny  little  place  that  we  call  the  Nest.  It  belongs  to 
Muggins,  but  nothing  grows  on  the  land  around  here  ex- 
cept berries,  and  apples  and  eggs,  and  Muggins  has  only  ten 
dollars  left.  Dora  was  playing  circus,  and  tried  to  ride  a 
colt,  and  sprained  her  ankle,  and  it  cost  quite  a  little  to  pay 
the  doctor ;  but  she  is  all  right  now,  and  sends  her  love,  and 
wants  to  know  what  you  look  like,  please.  I  wish  you 
would  please  think  out  a  way  to  help  us.  The  girls  don't 
know  that  I'm  writing  to  you,  except  Dora.  Avis  is  awfully 
afraid  that  Muggins  will  write  to  you  because  she  thinks 
that  you  and  Uncle  Harvey  ought  not  to  keep  all  the  money. 
She  loved  mamma  ever  so  much,  and  she  looks  just  like  her, 
and  she  is  smarter  than  any  of  us,  and  Muggins  says  she  is 
a  genius,  because  she  writes  stories;  but  she  is  awfully 
proud,  and  she  doesn't  like  you.  Muggins  doesn't  bother 
her  hesid  about  things  like  that.  She  just  likes  us  children. 
She  is  kind  of  pretty,  too.  Please  address  your  letter  to, 
"  Your  affectionate  nephew, 

""WILLIAM  RANDALL, 

"East  Elmore,  111." 

When  ten  days  had  passed  by  and  no  letter  ar- 
rived, the  hopes  of  the  two  conspirators  fell  to  zero 
and  Marjorie  wondered  whatever  could  be  the  mat- 
ter with  Billie  the  bold,  and  his  faithful  comrade. 

Then  came  a  great  day,  for  at  last  when  Billie 
asked  at  the  narrow  glazed  window  for  letters,  one 
was  handed  out,  a  thick  registered  letter  directed 
to  Mr.  William  Eandall,  and  the  postmark  was 
Boston.  Not  a  word  did  either  speak,  but  with 
one  accord  they  started  on  a  run  down  the  main 


Billie  Manages  Things  139 

street  and  never  stopped  until  they  were  safe  in 
the  woods,  the  other  side  of  the  ravine. 

"  Now  then,"  said  Billie,  holding  up  the  envelope 
to  the  light,  and  shutting  one  eye  to  scrutinize  it 
at  a  speculative  distance.  "I  wonder  if  the  old 
girl's  done  the  proper  thing." 

"  Oh,  open  it,  you  duffer,  and  find  out,"  cried 
Dora,  impatiently,  her  brown  eyes  fairly  dancing 
with  excitement  as  she  watched  Billie's  deliberate 
method  of  opening  a  letter  with  scorn.  When  he 
drew  out  the  enclosure,  a  couple  of  bills  fell  over 
his  lap. 

"  Two  twenties,"  commented  Billie.  "  Humph, 
good  for  a  starter,  anyway.  Here  goes  for  the 
letter,"  and  he  proceeded  to  read  it  aloud. 

"Mr  DEAR  NEPHEW  WILLIAM: 

"  Your  letter  received.  I  was  very  much  pleased  to 
learn  of  your  existence,  as  I  have  never  been  quite  sure 
how  many  of  you  there  were,  and  I  knew  nothing  of  your 
whereabouts.  Believe  me,  I  shall  take  a  deep  interest  In 
your  welfare  hereafter,  and  enclose  a  trifle  which  I  trust 
may  assist  you  in  your  present  financial  embarrassment. 
Now,  Billie,  I  wish  you  at  once  to  acquaint  your  sisters  with 
the  fact  of  our  correspondence.  I  presume  that '  Muggins '  is 
sister  Helen's  eldest  child,  Marjorie,  and  she,  of  course,  has 
charge  of  the  others.  As  for  Avis,  I  trust  to  see  her,  and 
all  the  rest  of  you  before  many  days  are  passed,  and  then 
we  will  see  if  the  hard  feelings  cannot  be  banished.  Let  me 
know  if  you  are  in  urgent  need  of  any  more  money. 
•' With  love  to  all  six,  I  am,  "Your  loving  aunt, 

NEWELL." 


140  Rook's  Nest 

"  Hurrah !  Hip,  hip,  hip,  Hurrah  !  "  shouted 
Billie,  turning  handsprings  as  fast  as  ho  could 
make  himself  go.  "Isn't  she  an  old  darling, 
though  ?  « Enclose  a  trifle.'  "Well,  all  I  got  to 
say  is  that  I  hope  she'll  keep  right  on  trifling. 
'  Financial  embarrassment ! '  There's  a  neat  high- 
toned  way  of  putting  it.  Avis  will  like  that. 
And  won't  her  royal  highness  and  Muggins  put  on 
airs  when  the  old  girl  from  Boston  town  comes 
west  ?  Oh,  we'll, 

'  Hide  a  cock  horse, 

From  Banbury  Cross, 
To  see  a  fine  lady  get  on  a  white  horse, 

Kings  on  her  fingers, 

And  bells  on  her  toes, 
She  shall  have  music  wherever  she  goes.' 

"  Rah !  Rah !  Rah !  Dora,"  he  cried,  in  a  per- 
fect ecstacy  of  exultation.  "  The  old  girl's  a  brick !  " 

"Let's  trot  on,"  he  said,  after  somersaults  be- 
came fatiguing,  and  they  had  re-read  the  letter, 
and  spread  out  the  two  bills  to  look  at  them  again. 

"Not  home?"  Dora  exclaimed,  her  eyes  open- 
ing wide  in  surprise,  at  the  mere  suggestion  of 
such  a  course,  She  had  the  money  safely  clutched 
in  her  hand  now. 

Billie  knit  his  lordly  brow.  Just  because  she 
had  been  the  one  to  think  up  the  plan  was  really 
no  reason  why  she  should  take  the  lead  in  order- 


Billie  Manages  Things  141 

ing  their  goings  in  and  their  comings  out  from 
this  time  forth  and  forevermore,  he  mentally  de- 
cided. It  was  time  he  asserted  his  ancient  au- 
thority. 

"Yes,  ma'am,  right  straight  home,"  he  said, 
firmly.  "  Where  else  would  we  go,  I  should  like 
to  ask  you  ?  " 

"Oh,  Billie,  I'm  ashamed  of  you.  You  never 
look  ahead  for  fun,  not  one  bit,"  and  the  Lamb's 
voice  was  full  of  disdainful  rebuke.  "Go  home, 
indeed.  We'll  march  back  to  town,  and  spend 
heaps." 

"What  for?" 

"  Oh,  butter  for  supper,  and  a  few  other  little 
things,"  returned  Dora,  loftily.  Then  the  light  of 
knowledge  broke  in  on  the  mind  of  William,  and 
all  feelings  of  irritated  pride  vanished  before  his 
old  admiration  for  his  comrade.  It  would  be  fine 
to  go  home  and  show  up  the  letter  and  the  money ; 
but  what  was  such  a  meagre  triumph  compared  to 
going  home  in  royal  pomp  and  glory,  with  a 
wagon  load  of  outward  and  visible  signs  of  their 
wealth  to  dazzle  the  Nest  dwellers,  and  spring  a 
whole  surprise  party  on  them? 

So  back  to  town  they  went  with  the  precious 
letter  and  one  bill  in  Billie's  pocket,  and  the  other 
one  tied  up  in  Dora's  handkerchief,  and  clasped 
tightly  in  her  brown  hand.  In  this  manner 


142  Rook's  Nest 

was  the  responsibility  divided,  and  each  felt  an 
equal  amount  of  importance  as  they  wended  then- 
way  to  the  largest  store  in  East  Elmore. 

Mr.  Hartwell,  the  grocer,  smiled  when  the  two 
dusty,  red-cheeked  children  came  into  his  store, 
and  climbing  up  on  stools,  leaned  their  elbows  on 
the  counter  with  their  chins  on  their  palms,  and 
regarded  him  confidentially. 

"  We  want  to  order  a  whole  lot  of  things,  and 
we  want  to  borrow  one  of  your  wagons,  Mr.  Hart- 
well,  and  will  you  let  Fred  take  the  things  out 
home  at  once,  please  ?  " 

Mr.  Hart  well's  smile  faded  to  a  puzzled  look  of 
inquiry.  Nearly  every  one  in  East  Elmore  knew 
of  the  Nest  and  its  inmates,  and  there  was  a  gen- 
eral impression  that  the  coffers  of  the  Princess's 
treasury  were  not  full  to  overflowing,  but  rather 
the  contrary. 

"Oh,  it's  all  right,"  said  Dora,  reading  his 
doubts  in  an  instant,  and  after  some  tugging  and 
untying  she  produced  her  bill,  and  smoothed  it 
out  on  the  counter  with  loving  fingers.  "  There's 
one,  and  we've  got  another  one  just  it's  twin,  and 
we've  got  a  letter  from  our  rich  aunt  in  Boston, 
and  if  you  don't  believe  it,  you  can  see  the  letter." 

"What's  your  order,  Billie?"  asked  Mr.  Hart- 
well,  his  smile  returning  instantly,  "and  I'm 
mighty  glad  for  you,  too." 


Billic  Manages  Things  143 

Dora  started  the  list  with  a  barrel  of  flour,  and 
a  full  line  of  staple  articles  with  housewifely  dig- 
nity, and  then  Billie  put  in  his  items. 

"A  lot  of  pickles,  sweet,  sour  and  mixed,  and 
some  cocoanut,  and  all  the  things  you  put  in  a 
plum  pudding,  and  some  deviled  tongue,  and  soft 
shell  crabs,  and  " 

"  No  crabs,  Billie." 

"  What  have  you  got  then,  that  comes  nearest 
to  them  ?  "  asked  William,  anxiously. 

"  Shrimps,  lobster,  salmon,  sardines  " 

"  Put  in  some  of  the  whole  lot,"  ordered  the 
lord  of  the  Palace,  and  the  twenty  dollar  bill 
seemed  to  swell  beyond  the  bounds  of  even  the 
Wolligog,  and  its  glorious  possibilities  were  with- 
out limit  in  his  eyes.  "  That's  all,  I  think,"  he 
added,  after  a  minute  more,  and  the  bill  was  paid 
in  full 

"  We'll  be  back  in  a  few  minutes,  to  ride  home 
on  the  wagon  with  Fred,"  called  Dora,  as  they 
were  leaving.  Then  a  fresh  idea  popped  into  her 
head,  and  she  ran  back. 

"  Oh,  and  say,  Mr.  Hartwell,  please  slip  in  a 
stick  of  candy  for  the  Lion." 

"Make  it  six,"  commanded  Billie,  grandly  over 
her  shoulder,  and  they  went  out  for  a  stroll  until  all 
should  be  ready  for  the  triumphal  progress  home. 

It  was  about  half  past  twelve.     Marjorie  had 


144  Rook's  Nest 

called  and  called  until  she  was  breathless,  but 
neither  Billie  nor  Dora  appeared  ;  and  when  they 
failed  to  show  up  at  dinner  time,  there  was  cause 
for  alarm,  for  they  never  neglected  that  important 
function  whatever  happened. 

At  first  Marjorie  had  not  noticed  their  absence 
so  much,  for  Mr.  Keith  had  come  in  with  a  letter 
from  Bob,  and  had  read  it  aloud  to  her  and  Avis 
and  the  little  ones.  Avis  had  listened  with  an 
unwonted  look  of  interest  in  her  face,  but  Muggins 
could  not  keep  from  going  to  the  door  and  shad- 
ing her  eyes  for  a  glance  down  the  road  for  the 
truants. 

Winnie  begged  for  the  envelope  to  treasure,  and 
she  and  the  Lion  sat  down  on  the  doorstep  and 
looked  at  it  hungrily.  To  Winnie  the  Red 
Rover  was  all  that  she  had  dreamed  of  now  that 
he  had  really  started  off  on  his  adventures,  and 
some  bright  day  he  would  come  home  with  flaunt- 
ing plumes  and  blare  of  trumpets,  laurel- 
crowned  and  covered  with  glory,  a  prince  indeed. 

Rob  wrote  that  he  was  homesick,  but  that  so 
many  new,  strange  things  were  happening  around 
him  that  he  had  no  time  for  worry  or  looking 
back.  He  felt  as  if  he  were  a  squirrel  on  a  wheel 
in  a  cage.  The  wheel  whirled,  and  he  had  to 
whirl,  too,  or  get  left.  So  he  whirled.  His  studies 
were  progressing  finely  and  he  thought  it  would 


Billie  Manages  Things  145 

not  be  very  long  before  he  would  be  able  to  work 
in  earnest  The  letter  was  full  of  bright  loving 
messages  to  the  children,  of  merry  comical  ad- 
ventures for  Billie,  and  words  of  good  cheer  and 
hope  for  Marjorie.  There  was  no  message  for 
Avis.  When  he  had  written  it,  he  remembered 
her  words,  "  Aren't  you  glad  you're  going  ?  "  and 
he  thought  that  as  yet  he  was  not  glad  enough  to 
answer  her. 

"  I  am  so  proud  of  Hob,"  Marjorie  said,  when 
Allyn  had  finished  the  letter,  and  she  sighed 
softly,  "  I  wish  Billie  could  go  away  like  that  to 
some  college  or  school  and  make  something  of 
himself." 

Mr.  Keith  was  silent,  and  she  went  out  into  the 
garden  to  take  another  look  for  the  runaways. 

"  It  would  not  do  any  good  to  send  Billie  away 
like  that,"  Avis  said.  "He  is  not  clever  like  B.ob." 

"I  think  that  he  is  needed  home  here  for  a 
while,"  answered  Allyn,  thoughtfully,  and  then  he 
turned  suddenly  and  went  out  into  the  garden. 

Marjorie  was  down  at  the  gate,  leaning  over  it 
as  she  looked  along  the  road. 

"  I  have  been  wondering,"  said  Allyn,  going  di- 
rectly to  her,  "  whether  Billie  would  not  care  to 
study  with  me  this  winter.  That  will  be  so  much 
better  than  his  going  away  from  home  yet  awhile. 
"What  do  you  think,  Marjorie  ?  " 


146  Rook's  Nest 

Marjorie's  brown  eyes  were  sliining  with  unshed 
tears  as  she  turned  to  him  impulsively  with  out- 
stretched hands. 

"  Think  ?  "  she  repeated.  "  Why,  I  think  that 
it  will  be  splendid.  It's  just  what  I've  been  long- 
ing for  all  this  time,  to  give  him  a  fair  chance  so 
that  in  a  year  or  so  if  anything  should  happen,  he 
could  enter  college.  It  is  so  kind  of  you  to  offer, 
and  if  only  Billie  will  do  his  part " 

A  sound  of  rattling  wheels  made  her  pause,  but 
this  was  immediately  supplemented  by  a  succes- 
sion of  thrilling  cheers,  war  whoops,  and  plain 
every  day  yells. 

"What  on  earth  is  that?"  she  began,  her  face 
paling  as  she  looked  beyond  the  gate,  and  then — 
Fred  Hartwell  drove  up  with  Billie  and  Dora 
perched  in  state  on  top  of  a  pile  of  sacks,  barrels, 
bags,  and  boxes,  keeping  up  the  music.  At  sight 
of  Muggins,  Billie  sprang  down,  and  waved  his 
cap  at  her  joyously. 

"  Hello,"  he  shouted.  "  Look  at  that  load,  will 
you,"  motioning  proudly  toward  the  wagon.  "  We 
did  it  ourselves,  the  whole  thing,  and  I  think  it's 
the  best  surprise  we  ever  made  up.  Fred,  just 
dump  everything  down  on  the  grass.  We'll  look 
out  for  them.  Now,  everybody  walk  into  the  sit- 
ting-room.." 

Wondering  with   an   odd,  heavy  ache   in   her 


Billie  Manages  Things  147 

heart  what  new  trouble  the  two  well  meaning  com- 
rudos  had  brought  her,  Marjorie  followed  Mr. 
Keith  into  the  sitting-room  where  the  others  had 
already  assembled  at  the  noise  of  the  arrival. 

"  This,"  said  Billie,  opening  the  letter  with  a 
flourish,  "this  loving,  and  most  welcome  epistle 
is  from  our  dearly  beloved  aunt,  Miss  Bethiah 
Newell,  of  Boston,  Mass." 

"  Oh,  Billie,  Billie,  what  have  you  done !  "  cried 
Muggins,  laying  her  face  on  Reggie's  curls,  as  he 
stood  beside  her.  Avis'  face  was  white  with  pride 
and  anger,  fierce,  loving  pride  for  the  fair,  gentle 
mother's  sake;  but  Billie  ignored  both  unfavor- 
able receptions,  and  proceeded  to  the  reading  of 
Aunt  Bethiah's  letter.  There  was  a  dead  silence 
during  the  time.  Dorals  face  was  fairly  shining 
with  happiness,  and  she  squeezed  Muggins'  hand 
reassuringly,  but  the  squeeze  failed  to  have  the 
desired  effect  When  Billie  had  finished,  he 
handed  over  the  remaining  bill  with  considerable 
ceremony,  and  Dora  laid  her  change  beside  it  in 
his  hand. 

"  There  is  the  *  trifle,' "  he  said,  dropping  the 
money  in  Muggins'  lap.  "  Some  of  it  we've  spent, 
and  if  you  two  cooks  do  your  part  we  wont  need 
the  cook-book  to-morrow.  That's  all,  only  I'd 
like  to  say  one  thing.  If  her  royal  highness  is 
going  to  get  huffy  over  the  best  thing  that  ever 


148  Rook's  Nest 

happened  to  us  since  we  came,  she  ought  to  go 
and  fall  down  the  well  and  make  a  dinner  of  moss 
and  polliwogs." 

Marjorie  looked  at  Avis.  She  stood  at  the  west 
window,  her  back  was  turned,  but  there  was  re- 
bellious pride  in  every  outline  of  the  tall  graceful 
figure.  Billie  eyed  her  reflectively,  and  at  last  he 
said,  gravely: 

"  You're  a  stiff-necked  damsel,  Avis." 

"  I'm  not,"  said  Avis,  indignantly. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  are,  too.  '  Behold  pride  goeth 
before  a  fall,  and  confusion  followeth  upon  a  stiff- 
necked  people.'  You  are  a  stiff-necked  damsel, 
all  right." 

Avis  checked  the  reply  that  arose  to  her  lips, 
and  started  for  the  door. 

"  Won't  you  have  some  of  the  good  things  to 
eat  ?  "  called  Dora ;  but  there  was  no  reply,  and 
they  let  her  go.  Marjorie  looked  anxiously  at 
Allyn,  but  he  did  not  speak,  and  all  at  once  the 
silence  was  broken  by  the  Lamb,  who  gasped  ex- 
plosively, "  Oh ! " 

"  It's  the  two  cents  we  didn't  pay  back,"  she  re- 
plied in  response  to  Marjorie's  startled  query. 
"  We  borrowed  it  to  buy  a  postage  stamp,  and 
we've  got  to  pay  Mr.  Keith  right  away." 

The  debt  was  paid  in  full  in  spite  of  Mr.  Keith's 
urgent  protests. 


Billie  Manages  Things  149 

That  night  when  the  two  girls  were  under  the 
shadow  of  the  four  poster,  Marjorie  hoped  that 
Avis  would  open  her  heart,  and  she  was  disap- 
pointed when  the  latter  absolutely  declined  talk- 
ing of  the  letter,  the  money,  the  coming  of  Miss 
Newell,  or  anything  connected  with  her.  So  the 
first  shadow  came  between  them,  for  Marjorie 
could  not  but  think  she  was  in  the  wrong. 

But  in  spite  of  Avis  and  her  disapproval,  the 
days  that  followed  were  glorious  days,  brimful  of 
bustle  and  happiness.  Blackberries  were  strictly 
forbidden  fruit  at  the  Nest  banquets,  and  cook- 
books were  rigidly  debarred  at  meal  time.  Billie 
ate  pickles  until  it  seemed  as  if  he  would  turn 
into  one ;  and  Marjorie  even  made  cocoanut  cro- 
quettes. Then  there  was  the  pudding,  plum  pud- 
ding, a  beautiful  marvel  of  toothsome  dainties,  a 
thing  to  yearn  and  hunger  after  greatly,  Billie  de- 
clared. It  was  made  strictly  according  to  the 
recipe  he  had  read  so  often  at  the  "  make  believe," 
feasts, — now  a  delicious  reality.  As  for  the  Lion 
and  the  Owl,  they  wandered  about  in  a  state  of 
unspeakable  bliss,  and  Marjorie's  old  joyous  laugh 
came  back  in  the  glad  new  time  of  plenty. 

She  had  written  to  Boston,  and  received  a  long, 
loving  letter  from  Aunt  Bethiah  telling,  when  she 
would  arrive  at  East  Elmore,  and  all  was  bustle 
and  excitement  at  the  Nest, 


150  Rook's  Nest 

Avis  absolutely  refused  to  say  anything  regard- 
ing the  expected  guest,  but  the  rest  were  all  glad 
she  was  coming,  and  Dora  felt  in  duty  bound  to 
write  a  letter  on  her  own  account. 

' '  DEAR  AUNTIE  : 

"  Your  letter  came  to-day,  and  we  think  you  are  very 
kind.  You  see,  we  thought  you  were  going  to  be  an  aw- 
fully mean  old  thing.  Billie  has  been  calling  you  the  old 
girl,  and  I  called  you  the  dragoness,  and  now,  we're  so  glad 
you're  not  a  bit  that  way.  Billie  was  going  to  write  to-day, 
but  he  don't  feel  very  well.  George  Washington  flew  into 
the  Palace  of  a  Thousand  Delights  and  knocked  the  glass 
covers  off  the  boxes,  and  ate  all  his  bugs  off  the  pins.  Bil- 
lie was  hopping  mad,  but  George  Washington  died  when  he 
tackled  the  butterflies,  and  we  buried  him  this  morning, 
wrapped  up  in  a  flag.  Billie  felt  so  bad  that  he  made  up 
some  poetry  for  the  shingle  we  had  for  a  gravestone,  and 
this  is  it : 

'"G.  W.  BANTAM. 

"  '  In  Memoriam,  September  1,  1900. 


1  Oh,  passerby,  come  wipe  your  eye, 
And  drop  a  tear  for  George. 
The  beetles  filled  him, 
The  butterflies  killed  him 
And  Washington  died  of  gorge.' 

"  Lovingly,  your  niece, 

"DOHA." 


CHAPTER  X 
The  Lion's  Cave 

HOUSECLEANING  at  Rook's  Nest  began  in  earnest 
now,  and  such  a  scrubbing  as  it  received  from  the 
schoolroom  to  the  kitchen !  Not  a  single  corner 
was  neglected  and  every  one  save  Avis  had  a  share 
in  the  joyous  turmoil. 

It  certainly  was  yery  peculiar  the  way  her 
royal  highness  was  acting.  Billie  puzzled  over  it, 
and  finally  decided  that  she  was  "  just  plain 
cranky,"  an  opinion  in  which  Muggins  privately 
concurred  herself,  for  all  the  time  that  she 
scrubbed  and  dusted,  and  Billie  took  up  carpets, 
and  took  down  curtains  in  the  fervor  of  his  zeal, 
while  the  Owl  and  the  Lion  set  their  numerous 
possessions  in  order,  and  everybody  fairly  buzzed 
with  anticipation, — all  this  time,  Avis  sat  quietly 
at  the  little  desk,  writing,  writing,  day  after  day 
as  though  there  were  no  such  person  in  the  world 
as  Aunt  Bethiah  Newell.  Not  a  word  did  she  say 
to  Marjorie  though,  not  a  word  of  complaint  or 
anger  at  the  new  condition  of  things,  only  her  lips 
were  set  in  a  firmer  line  than  usual,  and  when  her 


152  Rook's  Nest 

eyes  met  Marjorie's  there  was  a  look  in  them  that 
made  the  latter  think  twice  before  she  returned  to 
her  labor  of  cleaning. 

"I  wonder,"  Muggins  said  one  day,  stopping 
her  work  on  the  step-ladder  to  look  down  on  the 
chief  adviser,  as  a  sudden  problem  presented  itself 
to  her,  "  where  we  shall  put  her  to  sleep." 

They  were  all  at  work  in  the  ell  room,  and 
Billie  gave  the  window  he  was  washing  a  last  rub 
before  he  said,  cheerfully  : 

"  I  tell  you.  If  the  old  girl  won't  mind  being 
a  bit  cramped  on  the  lounge,  why,  I'd  just  as  soon 
sleep  out  in  the  barn  as  not.  And  I  can  tell  her 
how  to  manage  so  that  the  broken  spring  won't 
curl  around  her  spine,  you  know." 

"Don't  be  funny,  Billie,"  Marjorie  said,  se- 
verely. "We  will  have  to  put  her  in  the  four 
poster  with  Avis,  and  I  will  sleep  on  the  lounge." 

"  And  I  ?  "  inquired  William,  mildly.  "  Am  I  to 
be  tied  up  with  blue  ribbons  to  the  pump  ?  " 

Marjorie  looked  him  over  with  an  unconcealed 
anxiety  in  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  Billie,  not  the  pump,"  she  said, 
comfortingly.  "  You  might  try  the  hammock." 

"'Tis  well.  We  will  sleep  in  the  hammock," 
commented  his  lordship.  "  Dora,  you  will  have  to 
rock  me  to  sleep  every  night,  hereafter." 

Dora   was    busy  polishing   the  marble-topped 


The  Lion's  Cave  153 

table  to  the  last  degree  of  cleanliness,  and  treated 
his  order  with  the  silent  disdain  it  deserved,  when 
all  at  once  a  shadow  fell  across  the  floor  as  Mr. 
Koith's  head  appeared  at  the  open  window. 

"Hello,"  cried  Billie,  "jump  right  in.  Never 
mind  the  door." 

But  Allyn  disregarded  the  good  advice,  as  he 
nodded  smilingly  at  the  figure  on  the  ladder,  and 
held  up  a  letter  teasingly  before  the  eyes  of  the 
menagerie. 

"  Me ! "  shouted  Billie  and  Dora  in  one  breath, 
as  they  scrambled  up  and  made  for  the  window  in 
hot  haste,  and  the  Lion  set  up  a  rival  roar  for 
possession  as  he  dashed  ahead  of  the  Owl.  Even 
Marjorie  held  out  her  hand  for  it.;  but  Allyn 
laughed  at  them  all,  and  tossed  the  letter  over  in 
Avis'  lap. 

"For  Avis?"  queried  Billie,  in  astonishment. 
"  Well,  I  never,"  and  there  was  a  decided  tone  of 
grievance  in  his  words  as  he  looked  at  Avis.  Her 
face  had  flushed  warmly  at  sight  of  the  business 
letter-head,  and  Marjorie  saw  from  her  perch  on 
the  ladder  that  her  hands  were  trembling  as  she 
tore  the  envelope  open,  and  drew  out  the  letter. 
There  was  only  a  brief,  terse,  business-like  line ; 
but  as  she  read,  the  words  seemed  to  dance  before 
her  eyes,  and  something  rise  chokingly  in  her 
throat 


154  Rook's  Nest 

"Dear  Madam:"-  So  the  letter  said.  ""We 
beg  to  inform  you  that  your  story,  '  A  Prince  in 
Disguise,'  is  accepted,  and  will  be  published  in 
our  magazine  shortly.  Enclosed  please  find  check 
for  same." 

Check  for  same  !  Avis  let  the  paper  fall  from 
her  hand,  and  looked  at  the  narrow  slip  of  paper 
that  lay  unheeded  on  the  desk.  Then  the  lump  in 
her  throat  grew  larger,  and  some  big  tears 
splashed  down  on  her  hands. 

"What  is  it,  dear?"  asked  Marjorie,  who  had 
climbed  down,  and  come  to  her  side.  "  Not  bad 
news  ? "  and  she  slipped  her  arms  around  her 
neck  as  she  saw  the  tears. 

Without  a  word,  Avis  handed  the  check  to  her 
and  Marjorie  read  in  amazement. 

"  Twenty-five  dollars  !  " 

"Go  on,"  said  Billie  laconically,  looking  from 
one  to  the  other. 

"  No,  no,  it's  true,"  Marjorie  returned,  excitedly, 
as  she  flung  her  arms  in  good  earnest  about  Avis. 
"  I  knew  you  were  a  genius,  Avis,  and  I  was  always 
sure  you  would  succeed  some  day,  dear." 

Avis'  eyes  were  shining  brightly  as  she  re- 
ceived Mr.  Keith's  congratulations  and  saw  the 
look  of  pride  in  Muggins'  happy  face.  Twenty- 
five  dollars  was  not  so  very  much,  but  it  meant  so 
much  to  her,  a  hundred  times  its  real  value.  It 


The  Lion's  Cave  155 

meant  that  after  all  her  "  scribbling  "  had  not  been 
in  vain ;  it  meant  proof  to  the  others  that  she  was 
of  some  use ;  and  it  meant,  too,  what  she  longed 
for  more  than  anything  else  now,  the  beginning  of 
independence ;  but  still  she  did  not  speak. 

"  You  have  gained  the  first  step,"  Allyn  said, 
"  bo  patient,  and  work  hard,  and  it  will  be  only  a 
question  of  time  before  you  will  find  yourself  a 
winner." 

"  I  wish,"  Avis  began,  and  then  paused. 

"  What,  dear  ?  "  asked  Marjorie. 

"  I  wish  that  I  were  in  a  great  city  like  Rob ! " 
Avis  concluded,  slowly,  her  eyes  looking  out  of  the 
west  window  through  which  the  sunset  had  just 
begun  to  throw  rays  of  crimson.  There  was  si- 
lence for  a  few  moments  and  then  Allyn  said  : 

"Of  course  you  would  have  a  better  chance 
then,  that  is,  if  you  were  a  boy  like  Rob." 

"I  wish  I  were  a  boy,"  Avis  said,  half  laugh- 
ingly, and  half  in  earnest. 

"If  wishes  were  horses,  beggars  might  ride," 
Billie  said,  gaily.  "  Guess  her  royal  highness 
would  drive  a  span." 

Avis  drew  a  quick  sigh. 

"Anyway,"  she  said,  and  there  was  a  new  ring 
of  confidence  in  her  voice,  "  anyway,  I  have  this, 
and  it  is  a  good  start.  I  am  not  afraid  now." 

After  that  her  royal  highness  soared  above  the 


156  Rook's  Nest 

rest  of  the  Nest  dwellers.  Day  after  day  she  sat 
at  the  little  rosewood  desk,  writing,  ever  writing, 
but  the  time  had  passed  when  the  children  of  her 
fancy  made  their  debut  in  the  quiet  kitchen,  before 
a  select  audience  of  critical  but  highly  appreciative 
persons.  Not  a  line  of  this  new  creation  had  been 
seen  by  even  Marjorie,  not  a  hint  of  its  wonderful 
plot  breathed  to  a  soul.  Day  by  day,  the  neat  pilo 
of  paper  on  the  desk  shelf  grew  higher,  each  sheet 
clear  and  dainty,  like  everything  Avis  did;  and 
day  by  day  her  hopes  grew  stronger,  and  visions 
of  untold  wealth  danced  like  a  new  Arabian  Night's 
dream  through  the  author's  head. 

But  while  Avis  mused,  and  Marjorie  worked 
and  sang,  there  was  dire  trouble  between  the  two 
rival  factions  in  the  remainder  of  the  family. 
Every  day  the  Owl  and  the  Lion  deliberately 
waited  for  a  chance  to  run  away  from  the  other 
two,  and  then  suddenly  disappeared  off  the  face  of 
the  earth.  Billie  had  tracked  them  as  far  as  where 
the  ravine  ended  at  the  water's  edge,  but  there  had 
lost  the  trail.  Dora  had  sat  in  the  barn  window 
and  tried  to  trace  their  course  from  that  eyrie,  but 
in  vain. 

"They  take  the  boat,  that's  sure,"  Dora  said, 
emphatically,  when  the  two  had  followed  the  run- 
aways all  the  morning,  "and  if  Muggins  knew 
that,  she'd  have  seventeen  fits." 


The  Lion's  Cave  157 

"  Well,  I  don't  care,"  retorted  Billie,  with  ruffled 
dignity.  "It  isn't  fair  to  us.  They're  children, 
and  can't  be  trusted  to  have  secrets.  Maybe  they 
go  down  and  play  tag  with  the  muskrats." 

"  No,  sir-ree,  it's  something  great,  I  know  it  is," 
the  Lamb's  tone  fell  to  a  mysterious  pitch.  "  Some- 
thing they're  afraid  we'll  know,  something  perfectly 
lovely.  I  saw  them  carrying  boxes  down  this  way, 
and  Reggie's  dolls  and  lots  of  things.  Now,  where 
do  they  put  them  ! " 

Billie  frowned  and  chewed  some  hay  for  conso- 
lation. The  two  lay  on  huge  piles  of  fragrant  hay 
up  in  the  barn  loft.  The  wide  window  was  open, 
and  the  fall  air  heavy  and  still.  A  storm  was 
coming  up.  Over  in  the  northwest  the  great 
clouds  rolled  upward,  dark  beneath,  grey  white 
above,  and  there  was  a  rustle  and  shiver  among 
the  dry  leaves  on  the  maples  and  apple-trees.  At 
the  first  flash  and  peal,  the  Lord  and  Lady  hastily 
deserted  their  palace  and  rushed  pell  mell  to  the 
Nest  for  shelter. 

"  Put  down  the  windows,  Billie,"  called  Marjorie, 
as  the  rain  fell  in  great  sheets,  and  the  thunder 
seemed  to  roar  and  crack  an  arrow's  flight  from 
the  little  house.  "  Tell  Reggie  to  keep  away  from 
the  door." 

Billie  glanced  about  in  dismay.  He  had  for- 
gotten all  about  the  Lion  and  the  Owl. 


158  Rook's  Nest 

"Why — why — they  aren't  here,"  he  exclaimed. 
"They  must  have  gone  to  the  barn,  or  to  Mr. 
Hogers',  or  some  place." 

But  Marjorie  would  not  believe  it.  They  were 
out  in  the  storm,  she  knew,  cuddled  down  under 
some  bush  or  tree,  half  scared  to  death,  and  she 
was  going  out  to  find  them. 

"What  nonsense,  Muggins,"  called  Avis'  slow, 
soft  voice  from  the  desk  corner.  "  Of  course 
they're  at  the  farm.  Winnie  would  have  seen  the 
storm  coming  up.  She  isn't  a  baby." 

Marjorie  hesitated.  She  had  caught  an  old 
shawl  from  the  nail  in  the  entry,  all  ready  to  dash 
out  in  search  of  her  treasures,  but  somehow  Avis' 
words,  as  usual,  had  cooled  her  excitement.  She 
stood  by  the  kitchen  window,  her  face  pressed 
against  the  pane,  all  beaded  with  shining  rain- 
drops, and  waited,  half  expecting  every  minute  to 
see  two,  drenched,  forlorn  little  figures  come  steal- 
ing through  the  rain  mist.  But  none  came. 

Avis  kept  on  writing  tranquilly,  and  Billie  had 
tumbled  into  the  deep  Sleepy  Hollow  chair,  his 
head  on  the  seat  cushions,  his  feet  hanging  over 
the  top,  reading  the  terrific  adventures  of  "  Com- 
modore Tom,  or  the  King  of  Coral  Island."  The 
Lamb  alone  shared  Marjorie's  anxiety.  Side  by 
side  the  two  stood,  with  arms  around  each  other, 
and  Dora  was  thinking  of  the  "Black  Pirate/' 


The  Lion's  Cave  159 

wondering  if  it  had  gone  on  a  wild  cruise  down 
the  river,  but  she  did  not  tell  Marjorie. 

"I  am  going  over  to  the  farm,"  the  latter 
announce^  firmly,  at  the  first  sign  of  breaking 
clouds.  "  Won't  you  come,  Avis  ?  " 

"  No,  dear,  I'm  too  busy." 

Marjorie's  lips  tightened,  and  with  only  the 
Lamb  for  company  she  started  down  the  road 
leading  to  the  farm. 

"  It  isn't  that  I'm  afraid,"  she  said.  "  Only  I 
want  to  be  sure." 

Mrs.  Kogers  was  mending  at  the  side  bay  win- 
dow, and  nodded  smilingly  to  them  as  they  came 
up  the  path  between  the  tall  rows  of  hollyhocks 
and  bouncing  Betsies. 

"  Pretty  bad  storm,  wasn't  it  ? "  she  called. 
"  See  the  big  walnut  where  the  lightning  struck  it  ? 
Father's  gone  to  see  after  the  cattle  down  by  the 
river." 

"  Is  Reggie  here  ? "  asked  Marjorie,  breath- 
lessly. "  He  and  the  Owl  haven't  been  home  at 
all,  Mrs.  Rogers,  and  I'm  so  worried." 

"Land,  child,  no,  they  ain't  been  here."  Mrs. 
Rogers  dropped  her  stocking  ball  to  the  floor, 
and  rose  anxiously.  "  Haven't  been  home  !  You 
don't  say.  Land !  " 

"  They  must  be  lost  somewhere,"  and  Marjorie's 
face  grew  earnest  and  determined  as  she  pushed 


160  Rook's  Nest 

the  old  red  sliawl  back  from  her  head,  and  started 
away.  As  she  turned  from  the  porch,  she  saw 
Mr.  Rogers  coming  up  from  the  meadow,  his  high 
topped  boots  wet  from  the  tall  soaked  grass.  He 
was  holding  something  in  his  hand,  a  queer, 
shapeless,  dripping  something. 

"  Hello,  Muggins !  "  he  said,  cheerily.  "  Tell 
Reggie  I  found  one  of  his  doll  babies  down  by  the 
river,  and  if  he  doesn't  take  better  care  of  his 
family,  they'll  all  have  measles  and  croup  and 
toothache." 

There  was  no  answering  merriment  from  the 
girls.  Marjorie  caught  the  poor  little  rag  doll  in 
her  arms,  and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears,  though 
she  tried  to  be  brave  and  sensible. 

"  Reggie  must  have  dropped  it,"  she  said.  "  He 
and  Winnie  are  lost,  Mr.  Rogers.  Where  did 
you  find  it?" 

"  Right  down  by  the  ravine,"  replied  Mr. 
Rogers,  his  face  grave  and  troubled.  "  Lost  ? 
Those  babies?  Land  o'  Goshen,  and  in  that 
storm,  too.  Come  on,  though,  we'll  find  them. 
Mother,  you'd  better  fix  some  hot  ginger  tea,  and 
go  over  to  the  little  house,  and  you  two  come 
with  me." 

It  did  seem  so  good  to  have  some  one  to  take 
the  lead.  Some  one  so  kind  and  strong.  Dora 
and  Marjorie  tramped  obediently  after  Mr.  Rogers ; 


The  Lion's  Cave  i6r 

and,  as  they  went  by  the  Nest,  Dora  gave  her 
favorite  war-whoop,  that  was  ever  the  summons 
signal  for  Deadshot  Billie. 

Billie  heard  it,  and  "  Commodore  Tom  "  was 
flung  into  a  corner. 

"  Coming,  Avis  ?  "  he  asked,  over  his  shoulder. 

"No,  I'm  not,"  returned  her  royal  highness. 
"  You'll  probably  find  them  in  the  barn,  and  I'm 
not  going  to  be  bothered.  I'm  just  at  an  interest- 
ing point" 

"  Oh,  just  write,  *  And  the  villain  still  pursued 
her,'  and  come  on,"  teased  Billie.  "Maybe  you'll 
be  sony." 

But  Avis  only  shook  her  head,  and  he  joined 
the  rest  of  the  search  party,  already  far  past  the 
barn. 

"  They  aren't  in  the  Palace,"  Dora  told  him  ; 
then  he  saw  the  rag  doll,  and  thought  of  the  boat 
at  once,  and  the  two  comrades  were  silent  as  they 
followed  Mr.  Rogers  and  Marjorie  to  the  ravine. 

A  wet,  autumn  wind  was  blowing,  a  "  talky 
one,"  Winnie  used  to  call  that  kind,  when  she 
heard  it  whispering  and  calling  around  the  trees. 
The  bottom  of  the  ravine  was  full  of  fallen  leaves 
soaked  through,  and  it  was  chill  and  desolate  all 
around. 

"There's  the  'Black  Pirate,'  "  cried  Dora, hope- 
fully, discovering  the  little  boat  under  the  willows 


1 62  Rook's  Nest 

and  reeds,  "  but  I  don't  see  any  footprints.  The 
rain  must  have  washed  them  away." 

"  I  found  the  doll  right  there  by  the  wall,"  said 
Mr.  Rogers,  pointing  to  the  old  stone  wall  that 
divided  the  ravine  from  the  pasture,  and  kept  the 
cattle  in  their  own  territory. 

Marjorie's  face  was  pale  under  its  coat  of  tan, 
and  her  voice  unsteady,  as  she  placed  her  hands 
to  her  lips,  and  called  the  runaways'  names.  But 
there  was  no  response  save  for  a  cat-bird  answer- 
ing shrilly  in  the  distance,  and  she  stopped  in 
despair. 

Billie  took  her  place,  standing  on  the  stone 
wall,  and  yelling  like  a  Sioux  on  the  warpath. 
The  Lamb,  however,  was  busy  in  another  way. 
She  had  climbed  into  the  boat,  and  was  perched 
on  the  middle  seat  bailing  out  the  water,  when  all 
at  once  she  paused,  and  stared  at  something  a  few 
rods  down  the  shore.  There  was  a  mound  there, 
nearly  hidden  by  the  willows,  a  queer  round 
mound  that  looked  like  an  inverted  chopping 
bowl.  The  grass  grew  thickly  on  its  top,  but 
directly  in  front,  facing  the  water,  a  large  lump  of 
earth  had  become  dislodged  by  the  heavy  rain, 
and  crumbled  away,  exposing  to  view  a  semi-circle 
of  stone  or  rock  which  looked  very  strange  in  such 
a  place. 

Moreover,  a  couple  of  birch  saplings  had  fallen 


The  Lion's  Cave  163 

before  it,  and  what  had  attracted  Dora's  attention 
was  the  shaking  of  the  under  branches. 

While  Billie  was  yelling  himself  hoarse  on  the 
stone  wall,  the  Lamb  quietly  made  her  way  to  the 
mound,  for  a  closer  view.  Being  a  worthy  fol- 
lower of  Billie  the  Bold,  she  was  not  one  whit 
afraid,  but  dragged  the  branch  aside,  and  lo! 
Something  was  moving  out  of  the  pile  of  fallen 
earth !  Slowly  and  with  great  effort  it  came,  and 
Dora  grasped  it  firmly,  and  called  to  Marjorie.  It 
was  the  end  of  the  punting  pole  from  the  boat 

"  They're  at  the  other  end,"  she  exclaimed,  ex- 
citedly. "  Trying  to  dig  out" 

"  Dig  out  of  what  ?  "  asked  Marjorie,  in  bewil- 
derment, but  Billie  had  discovered  the  stone  curve 
at  the  top  of  the  mound,  and,  seizing  a  flag  stick, 
went  to  work  digging,  too,  with  the  Lamb  help- 
ing. Presently  they  had  made  a  fair  sized  hole 
around  the  pole  end,  and  Billie  took  a  firm  hold 
of  the  pole  and  pulled.  There  was  a  frantic  jerk 
from  the  other  end,  and  a  faint,  smothered  yowl 
sounded,  so  dear  to  Marjorie,  that  she  could  have 
cried  for  joy.  Billie  begun  digging  at  the  top 
now,  while  the  rest  pulled  the  pole,  and  at  last  he 
gave  a  triumphant  cry,  and  vanished  through 
the  aperture.  A  minute  more,  and  there  was  a 
mighty  lurch  forward  of  earth,  and  the  secret  hid- 
ing place  of  the  Owl  and  the  Lion  lay  open  to  the 


1 64  Rook's  Nest 

world,  and  the  amazement  of  men.  First,  there 
was  the  half  moon  of  stone  like  the  entrance  to  a 
tunnel,  so  overgrown  with  weeds  and  tall  grass 
that  unless  one  were  directly  opposite  it,  it  was 
completely  hidden  from  sight.  The  top  of  it  was 
only  four  feet  from  the  ground,  but  there  was 
quite  two  feet  that  one  had  to  step  down  before 
one  stood  in  the  secret  chamber. 

As  for  this  latter,  Marjorie  and  Dora  knelt 
down  and  stared  into  it  in  astonishment.  It  was 
a  long,  dim  cave  of  stone  and  cement,  about  eight 
feet  deep,  and  in  the  centre  of  it  stood  the  two 
red-eyed,  tearful,  frightened  runaways.  There 
was  a  plentiful  supply  of  earth  sprinkled  in  their 
towsled  hair.  Winnie's  dress  was  hopelessly 
torn,  but  not  a  cross  word  was  said.  Billie  lifted 
the  Lion  and  handed  him  out  to  Marjorie' s  eager 
arms,  and  the  Owl  followed.  Not  so  Billie.  He 
stood  in  the  centre  of  the  cave,  arms  akimbo,  in- 
terested and  admiring.  It  was  a  wonderful  den. 
All  of  Reggie's  dolls  were  ranged  against  the  walls 
in  stately  array,  and  Winnie  had  smuggled  some 
of  her  favorite  story  books  down  there.  There 
was  an  old  braided  mat  in  one  corner.  Mar- 
jorie had  hung  it  on  the  clothesline  to  dry  once 
and  it  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  robbers. 
There  were  also  some  of  Avis'  discarded  ribbons 
and  bits  of  silk. 


THE  FRIGHTENED  RUNAWAYS 


The  Lion's  Cave  165 

"  Wo  like  to  dress  up  and  make  believe  we're 
pirates — an' — an'  fairies,  an'  gun-momes,"  ex- 
plained Winnie,  sobbingly. 

"  An'  wobberth,"  put  in  Reggie,  dolefully.  "  An' 
thee  therpenth." 

"  An'  it  started  to  rain,  so  we  just  cuddled  down 
to  wait  till  it  was  over,  an'  I  was  telling  a  story, 
an'  Reggie  went  to  sleep.  An'  it  rained,  an'  rained, 
an'  rained,  an'  I  went  to  sleep,  too,  an'  that's  all, 
till  I  woke  up,  an'  heard  Billie  calling." 

"  Bet  a  cookie  you'd  hear  that,"  chuckled  Billie. 

"  Then  we  tried  to  get  out,  an'  couldn't." 

"  And  then  ?  "  asked  Marjorie,  lovingly. 

"  Then  we  just  cried,  and  poked  with  the  pole," 
concluded  the  Owl,  with  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"  But  what  is  it  anyway  ?  "  asked  Dora,  jumping 
down  into  the  cave  where  Mr.  Rogers  had  already 
joined  Billie. 

"  Well,  it  goes  with  the  Randall  farm,  that's  all 
I  know,"  said  Mr.  Rogers,  as  he  pounded  on  the 
cement  wall  and  thumped  on  the  ground.  "  Your 
uncle  fixed  it  long  ago  for  one  of  his  crazy  ideas, 
but  I  don't  know  what  the  idea  was.  He  had 
workmen  over  from  Elgin,  and  they  were  down 
quite  a  while.  Seems  as  if  he  used  to  say  he  was 
going  to  lay  water  pipes  from  the  river  up  to  the 
house,  and  this  must  have  been  the  starting  place." 

"  Of   course,"   exclaimed    Billie.     "  The    river 


1 66  Rook's  Nest 

rises  way  over  this  when  it's  full.  Gee  wollikins ! 
what  if  it  had  started  to  come  in  to-day." 

"  Billie,  stop,"  commanded  Marjorie,  indignantly. 
"As  if  we  hadn't  had  enough  worry  without 
making  a  little  more.  Everybody  hustle  and  help 
get  these  two  damp  chickens  home  and  to  bed 
before  they  catch  cold." 

So  Billie  bore  the  Lion  in  his  arms,  and  Mr. 
Rogers  held  Winnie,  and  the  procession  wended 
its  way  to  the  little  house. 

It  was  growing  dark.  Mrs.  Rogers  had  brewed 
ginger  tea,  and  was  watching  anxiously  at  the  back 
door.  When  it  grew  too  dark  to  see  the  paper 
plainly,  Avis  laid  aside  her  pencil,  and  awakened 
from  her  day  dreams  to  everyday  life. 

"  Oh,  haven't  they  come  back  yet,"  she  ex- 
claimed, when  she  entered  the  kitchen.  Mrs. 
Rogers  shook  her  head,  and  slipped  her  arm 
around  the  slim  figure.  She  liked  Avis,  as  she 
did  the  rest.  That  is,  all  save  Marjorie,  who  held 
sway  in  her  heart  on  a  pedestal  only  a  little  way 
beneath  Rob.  When  Billie  would  dilate  confi- 
dentially on  her  royal  highness's  oddities,  Mrs. 
Rogers  would  only  laugh. 

"  Land,  don't  you  know  smart  people  can't  be 
like  everyday  folks,  Billie?  They  just  can't. 
Look  at  Rob.  He'd  start  out  to  plow,  and  by  an' 
by  father  would  see  the  oxen  and  the  plow  down 


The  Lion's  Cave  167 

in  a  shady  corner,  and  Bob  would  bo  off  drawing 
pictures,  or  catching  squirrels,  maybe.  Of  course, 
it's  harder  on  Muggins  to  have  her  so,  but  she'll 
come  out  all  right,  yei  She's  only  a  half  grown 
kitten,  anyway.  Let  her  write  and  study.  It's 
seldom  enough  that  kind  come  into  the  world, 
that's  what  I  told  father  when  he'd  scold  Rob." 

Billie  would  listen  very  politely  and  respect- 
fully, and  say  "  Yes'm,"  and  go  away  feeling  the 
same  resentment  toward  Avis  he  always  did,  and 
believing  her  to  be  as  much  of  a  crank  as  ever. 
But  Avis  always  felt  that  she  had  a  place  in  Mrs. 
Rogers'  warm  heart;  and,  while  she  never  liked 
either  Rob  or  his  father,  she  could  not  help  feel- 
ing grateful  for  the  sympathy  and  love  of  the  old 
lady,  whem  all  save  Winnie  and  the  Lion  blamed 
her  at  the  little  house. 

To-night  a  quick  pang  of  remorse  swept  over 
her,  as  she  saw  the  figures  coming  through  the 
purple  shadows,  and  the  burdens  which  two  of 
them  bore. 

"  Are  they  hurt  ?  "  she  asked,  meeting  them  half 
way.  Before  Marjorie  could  reply,  Billie  ex- 
claimed in  one  of  his  impulsive,  unfortunate 
bursts  : 

"  No'm.  Not  quite  dead  yet,  thank  you.  But 
if  we  hadn't  gone  after  them,  they'd  have  been 
buried  alive  in  a  hole  in  the  ground  for  all  your 


1 68  Rook's  Nest 

royal  Ink  Blotness  cared.  Go  on  back  to  your 
old  chapters.  We  can  look  out  for  them  all  right, 
without  any  of  your  help,  thank  you.  Go  con- 
centrate your  thoughts." 

"  Avis,  don't  mind  what  Billie  says,"  called  Mar- 
jorie,  pleadingly,  but  Avis  had  stopped  short  in 
the  path  at  the  first  word,  and,  turning,  had  walked 
back  to  the  house,  silent  and  hurt. 

After  the  two  runaways  had  been  put  to  bed, 
and  been  "  gingered,"  as  Billie  called  it,  Marjorie 
wralked  half  way  back  to  the  farm  with  Mrs. 
Rogers,  talking  over  the  plans  for  the  coming  of 
Aunt  Bethiah  Newell.  She  had  almost  forgotten 
Avis,  when  suddenly,  as  she  was  passing  the  little 
garden  on  her  way  home,  she  saw  a  figure  over  be- 
neath the  lilac  bushes. 

"  Avis,  is  that  you  ?  "  she  asked,  hesitatingly. 
The  moon  had  not  yet  risen  and  it  was  so  dark 
she  could  hardly  see  at  all. 

Silence  a  moment,  then  a  broken  voice  said  in  a 
low  tone : 

"  Yes,  but  I  want  to  be  alone,  please." 

"  Why,  Avis  Randall,  you're  crying ! "  cried 
Marjorie,  hurrying  through  the  dew  wet  grass  and 
kneeling  beside  her.  "You  don't  mind  what 
Billie  says,  do  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  do,"  replied  Avis,  between  her  sobs. 
"  I  try  and  try  so  hard  to  work  and  make  some- 


The  Lion's  Cave  169 

thing  of  myself  so  you  will  all  have  plenty,  and 
you  arc  all  against  me,  and  laugh  at  me,  and  think 
I'm  al \\.iys  wrong.  I  wish" 

"  What  ?  "  Marjorie's  arms  were  clasped  around 
IUT.  "Don't  wish  any  crazy  things.  Maybe 
tin -re's  a  fairy  godmother  around  who'll  give  it  to 
you.  And  you  know  how  we  all  love  you." 

But  Avis  did  not  reply,  and  after  a  while,  when 
her  nose  and  eyes  were  not  quite  so  red,  they  went 
into  the  house. 

And  Billie,  shrewdly  guessing  many  things, 
hunted  up  some  new  apples,  and  some  ancient 
molassess  candy,  and  offered  them  up  as  a  peace 
sacrifice,  but  her  royal  highness's  wrath  remained 
unappeased  and  she  sought  the  shelter  of  the  four 
poster,  and  buried  her  sorrows  in  Pillowdom,  leav- 
ing Muggins  to  puzzle  alone  over  this  new,  unruly 
imp  of  discord  which  had  appeared  in  the  merry 
little  home  circle. 


CHAPTER  XI 

All  Hallows'  Eve 

"  WELL,  there's  one  thing,  anyhow,"  Dora  said, 
one  day  in  the  barn  sometime  after  Avis'  receipt 
of  the  check,  when  she  and  Billie  were  holding  a 
secret  session  to  discuss  the  subject.  "  It  doesn't 
make  her  one  bit  nicer.  She  goes  off  more  than 
ever  since  she  got  that  letter,  pokes  off  all  by  her 
lonesomes,  and  scribbles,  and  scribbles,  and 
scratches  away  at  old  stories  all  the  time.  And 
she's  getting  wrinkles,  too." 

"  Go  on,"  said  Billie,  in  mild  suspicion.  "  That's 
a  big  one." 

"No,  sir-ree,  it  is  not,"  protested  the  Lamb, 
earnestly,  shaking  her  head  solemnly  over  the 
evils  which  had  come  to  pass.  "  She's  got  two 
little  puckery  ones  over  her  nose  where  she  scowls 
so  much,  and  she  sets  her  teeth  hard,  and  doesn't 
always  hear  you  when  you  speak  to  her,  and  she 
won't  eat  much,  or  talk  much,  or  anything." 

"  Geewollikins,"   gasped  Billie,   his   eyes  wide 
with   apprehension.     "What  will  Muggins  do  if 
she  does  something  crazy." 
170 


All  Hallows'  Eve  171 

Dora  sighed  heavily,  and  gave  Darling's  neck  a 
meditative  poke  with  her  finger  as  she  sat  on  the 
edge  of  the  manger. 

"  No,"  she  said  at  last,  "  I  don't  believe  she'd  do 
anything  really  crazy.  I  think's  it's  all  on  ac- 
count of  Aunt  Bethiah." 

"  Think  she  won't  receive  our  fairy  godmother 
with  open  arms  ?  "  asked  Billie,  chewing  a  straw, 
anxiously. 

"  No,  I  don't,"  returned  the  Lamb,  emphatically. 
"  I  think  something  queer  is  going  to  happen." 

If  she  had  said  it  in  an  ordinary  tone  of  voice, 
Billie  would  not  have  minded ;  but  she  spoke 
slowly,  and  "  solemncholy,"  as  the  Lion  would 
have  said.  The  sunset  glow  had  faded  from  the 
shadowy  barn,  making  it  dim  and  spooky,  so 
Billie  the  Bold  looked  over  his  shoulder  and  felt 
the  shivers  descending  on  him,  and  deeming  discre- 
tion the  better  part  of  valor,  he  acted  accordingly. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  called  the  Lamb  after 
his  swiftly  retreating  figure. 

"Supper,"  returned  the  Lord  of  the  Palace, 
cheerfully,  thereby  concealing  his  moral  weakness 
by  a  growing  physical  one,  and,  with  a  sigh,  Dora 
slipped  down  from  her  perch  on  the  manger,  and 
followed  him. 

"  Uneasy  lies  the  head  that  wears  a  crown,"  was 
said  long,  long  ago,  and  certainly  the  crown  of  the 


172  Rook's  Nest 

sovereign  of  the  kingdom  of  Rattletibang  pressed 
heavier  ever  day.  Someway  the  home  life  was  not 
nearly  so  happy  as  it  had  been  before  Aunt 
Bethiah  had  begun  sending  frequent  and  generous 
donations  toward  its  support.  Of  a  sudden,  Mar- 
jorie  found  her  position  in  the  household  changed 
from  that  of  the  little  mother  who  was  alternately 
adored  and  defied  in  spasmodic  fluctuations  of 
sentiment,  to  that  of  a  superior  being  of  great  im- 
portance, a  being  to  be  revered  and  respected  as 
the  possessor  of  much  filthy  lucre,  and  therefore 
benefactress  in  general  to  a  humble  following  of 
dependents.  When  the  Lion  cuddled  up  in  her 
arms  for  his  good-night  kiss,  he  would  nestle  a 
little  closer  nowadays  as  he  whispered  what  he 
wanted  Santa  Glaus  to  bring  him  for  Christmas, 
and  Winnie  developed  a  sudden  mania  for  wash- 
ing dishes,  her  special  abhorrence  before.  "  'Cause 
it  makes  Muggins'  hands  red,  and  Aunt  Bethiah 
won't  like  that ; "  so  she  told  Dora,  privately. 

Billie  and  the  Lamb  were  not  a  bit  meek  and 
lowly  in  their  manner  of  doing  reparation  for  past 
wrongs.  Just  a  shade  more  respectful,  that  wag 
all ;  but  somehow,  while  she  laughed,  it  hurt  Mar- 
jorie  a  little  when  Billie  suggested  gravely  that 
she  lengthen  her  dresses  like  Avis  wore  hers,  and 
keep  her  hands  clean,  and  try  to  wad  her  curls  up 
in  a  tight  little  "  pug,"  like  Mrs.  Rogers  did. 


All  Hallows*  Eve  173 

"  But  why  must  I,  Billie  ?  "  she  asked,  wistfully, 
standing  in  the  doorway  with  the  broom  in  one 
hand  and  the  dustpan  in  the  other.  "  Won't  I  do 
like  this?" 

"Nope.  You've  got  to  act  grown-up  and  dig- 
nified before  the  old  girl,"  was  her  big  brother's 
answer.  "  Dora  says  you're  most  eighteen  now. 
Anyway,  Mr.  Keith  says  you're  a  regular  kid." 

"  William  Randall,  did  he  say  that  ?  "  and  Mug- 
gins flushed  as  she  caught  Billie  by  his  shoulders, 
and  squared  him  around  to  face  her.  "Honest 
and  time  ?  " 

"  Honest,"  protested  Billie,  calmly.  "  He  said 
you  acted  ever  so  much  younger  than  you  really 
were." 

"  Oh,  that's  different,"  said  Marjorie,  with  a  sigh 
of  relief,  but  all  the  same  Billie's  words  sank 
deeply  into  her  heart,  and  bred  new  thoughts 
there.  She  could  not  exactly  define  the  feeling, 
but  she  realized  that  something  had  come  between 
Avis  and  herself,  something  that  swept  aside  the 
old  sweet  sympathy  and  frank  confidence.  Avis 
held  herself  aloof  from  the  little  family  chats  and 
confidences  now,  and,  at  night,  beneath  the  shadow 
of  the  four  poster,  she  kept  her  own  counsels,  and 
never  talked  of  her  ambitions  or  air  castles  any 
more. 

"She's  ,i  genius   all   right,"   Billie   remarked, 


174  Rook's  Nest 

sagely,  after  a  special  exhibition  of  Avis'  queer- 
ness.  "  Geniuses  are  always  half  cracked,  don't 
you  know  they  are,  Muggins  ?  " 

Marjorie  shook  her  head  wearily.  She  sat  at 
the  kitchen  table,  her  chin  resting  on  her  hands. 
It  was  the  last  day  that  they  would  have  by  them- 
selves ;  for,  although  Aunt  Bethiah  had  postponed 
her  visit  for  some  weeks  she  was  to  arrive  on  the 
morrow,  and  it  had  been  an  eventful  day  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  Randalls. 

There  was  much  rivalry  among  the  Rattleti- 
bangers  as  to  which  one  should  bear  the  honor  of 
meeting  and  welcoming  the  coming  guest.  Billie 
had  long  since  announced  his  irrevocable  decision 
of  being  the  first  to  hug  the  "  old  girl,"  and  as  for 
the  others,  and  their  plans,  why,  they  could  fight 
it  out  amongst  themselves.  William  washed  his 
hands  of  the  whole  affair. 

Marjorie  was  worried.  She  wanted  to  go  her- 
self, but  when  it  came  to  taking  the  menagerie 
along,  too,  she  did  not  know  exactly  how  to  ar- 
range it 

"  What  time  does  the  train  come,"  asked  Dora, 
finally. 

"  About  half -past  seven  at  night,  auntie  wrote," 
Marjorie  said. 

"Well,  then,"  cried  the  Lamb,  joyously, 
"  what's  the  matter  with  the  whole  circus  going  ? 


All  Hallows'  Eve  175 

Don't  you  see,  Aunt  Bethiah  will  see  us  all  at 
once,  then,  and  get  over  the  shock  quicker  than  if 
we  came  like  prize  story  instalments,  one  or  two 
chapters  at  a  time.  Let's  all  go." 

So  it  was  settled  that  they  were  all  to  walk 
down  to  the  depot,  the  following  evening,  and  meet 
the  guest  of  honor  with  all  ceremony.  The  Nest 
was  as  spick  and  span  as  five  pair  of  hands  could 
make  it  Even  the  Lion  had  done  his  share. 
"Winifred  and  he  had  gone  to  the  woods  and 
brought  home  brightly  colored  leaves,  wonderful 
affairs  in  red  and  gold,  and  deepest  russets,  and 
the  little  home  was  profusely  decorated  with  these. 
Although  she  was  very  tired  now  that  everything 
was  done,  Marjorie  felt  a  thrill  of  satisfaction  and 
contentment  as  she  took  a  final  look  around  the 
rooms,  and  gave  a  last  touch  here  and  there. 

It  was  All  Hallows'  Eve,  and  Mrs.  Kogers  had 
invited  all  the  children  over  to  the  farm  to  spend 
the  evening  and  have  a  royal  good  time  in  the  old 
fashioned  way,  and  all  were  ready  except  Avis. 
The  menagerie  and  Billie  were  in  the  kitchen, 
and  his  lordship  was  descanting  upon  the  superior 
merits  of  pop-corn  and  apples. 

"  'Cause  why  ? "  Marjorie  heard  him  explain. 
"  'Cause  apples  fill  you  up  before  you  get  all  the 
taste  you  want,  but  pop-corn " — his  voice  rose 
higher  and  became  most  emphatic,  "pop-corn 


176  Rook's  Nest 

beats  anything,  'cause  you  can  eat  and  eat,  and 
then  start  in  all  over  again,  and  eat  some  more. 
The  Lamb  and  I  bet  five  cookies  that  we  can  eat 
more  pop-corn  to-night  than  you  and  the  Lion, 
Winnie." 

Marjorie  did  not  wait  to  hear  more,  as  it  was 
getting  late,  and  they  had  promised  to  be  at  the 
farm  in  time  for  supper,  so  she  went  to  the  school- 
room to  hurry  up  Avis.  The  door  was  ajar,  and 
a  thin  path  of  lamp  light  glanced  through  the  dim, 
shadowy  sitting-room.  Marjorie  pushed  the  door 
open,  her  face  bright  and  happy.  Over  at  the 
desk  sat  her  royal  highness.  Her  back  was  to- 
ward the  door,  but  Marjorie  saw  that  she  was  writ- 
ing, and  as  she  thought  of  the  little  ones  waiting 
for  their  good  time,  she  could  not  help  feeling  a 
little  hurt  and  bothered. 

"  Are  you  ready,  Avis  ? "  she  asked,  a  trifle 
crossly  for  her. 

Avis  raised  her  head  at  the  sound  of  her  voice, 
and  her  own  was  low  and  a  little  unsteady  as  she 
answered,  shortly  : 

"  I  am  not  going  with  you  to-night." 

"Not  going !  "  echoed  Marjorie,  in  surprise,  go- 
ing quickly  to  the  desk,  where  she  could  look 
down  into  Avis'  telltale  eyes,  and  read  her  reason 
there.  "Why  not?" 

"  I  want  to  write,"  Avis  replied,  not  meeting  her 


All  Hallows'  Eve  177 

Then  Marjorie  saw  that  her  face  was  white, 
and  that  she  had  been  crying,  and  in  a  moment  all 
her  vexation  had  vanished,  and  she  was  herself, 
tender  and  solicitous. 

"  Oh,  let  the  old  writing  go  for  to-night,  dear," 
she  said,  impulsively,  clasping  her  arms  around  the 
slender  bowed  form  at  the  desk.  "  Come  and  have 
one  out  and  out  good  time  with  us.  It  will  do  you 
so  much  good.  I  know  it  will,  and  you  look  so 
worn  out  and  tired.  Come  on." 

Avis  shook  her  head,  and  tried  to  draw  away 
from  the  close  embrace,  but  her  sister  went  on : 

"  Why,  you  meant  to  go,  too.  You're  all  dressed 
and  ready." 

She  flushed  guiltily. 

"  No,  no,  I  didn't,"  she  said,  hesitatingly.  "  Do 
go  and  leave  me,  I  \vant  to  write  to-night  Never 
mind  me,  Muggins." 

"But  the  children ?" 

"  Oh,  they  won't  miss  me,"  and  she  laughed,  an 
odd  little  mirthless  laugh  that  bothered  Marjorie. 
"  As  long  as  you  are  with  them  they  will  not  mind 
me." 

"  Oh,  don't,"  pleaded  Marjorie,  anxiously.  "  We 
want  you  so  much,  and  it's  our  last  night  alone, 
you  know." 

But  Avis'  head  was  bent  over  the  desk,  and  she 
was  silent.  Grieved  and  wondering,  Marjorie 


178  Rook's  Nest 

turned  reluctantly  away,  but  she  had  hardly 
reached  the  door,  before  Avis  was  beside  her,  her 
arms  thrown  closely  about  her,  and  her  face 
pressed  down  on  her  shoulder. 

"  Don't  go  away  from  me  like  that,  Muggins," 
she  whispered.  "And  don't  be  angry  with  me. 
I — I  can't  go." 

Marjorie  only  smoothed  the  soft  fair  hair,  as 
tenderly  as  if  it  had  been  Winnie,  and  petted  and 
comforted  her  royal  highness  in  a  way  that  she 
had  not  done  since  they  had  come  to  the  Nest. 

As  if  it  mattered  after  all,  she  said,  lovingly. 
It  was  a  nice  kind  of  person  who  wanted  other 
people  to  be  happy  their  way.  If  she  wanted  to 
stay  home  and  write,  then  all  right.  Angry  ?  Not 
a  bit.  As  if  she  could  be  angry  when  she  was 
straining  every  nerve  to  be  famous  and  finish  that 
long  story  that  was  to  set  the  world  afire  and  make 
the  name  of  Randall  one  of  highest  honor. 

"  Are  you  girls  ever  coming,  or  have  you  gone 
to  bed  ?  "  called  Billie  from  the  kitchen,  and  Mar- 
jorie gave  her  royal  highness  a  last  kiss  as  she 
started  to  obey  the  call. 

"  I  hate  to  leave  you  here  all  alone,"  she  said, 
wistfully,  hoping  even  now  that  she  might  relent 
and  come,  but  in  vain.  Avis  had  braced  up,  as 
Billie  said,  all  at  once,  and  hastened  her  depart- 
ure. Still,  Marjorie  had  a  queer  feeling  that  there 


All  Hallows'  Eve  179 

was  something  wrong  as  they  left  the  little  house, 
and  Avis  stood  in  the  doorway,  watching  them  all 
the  way  down  the  road,  for  with  the  trees  stripped 
of  their  foliage  there  was  a  clear  view  almost  as 
far  as  the  Rogers  farm. 

But  the  menagerie  was  wonderfully  impatient, 
and  fairly  bubbled  over  with  excitement  as  they 
danced  on  ahead  like  goblins  in  the  uncertain 
light,  and  there  was  no  time  for  Marjorie  to  linger. 
If  she  had  gone  back  then  and  there,  and  stayed, 
it  would  have  changed  many  things,  and  saved 
many  a  heartache.  How  was  she  to  know,  though, 
that  when  they  were  out  of  sight,  the  lone  figure 
in  the  doorway  sank  down  in  the  entry  all  crushed 
and  desolate,  her  head  on  her  arms,  crying  as  Avis 
rarely  cried.  How  was  she  to  know  that  after- 
ward the  same  lone  figure  had  stolen  back  to  the 
schoolroom,  and  sought  the  "  mother's  corner,"  to 
try  and  gain  some  of  the  old  strength  and  resolu- 
tion from  its  influence.  As  it  happened,  she  knew 
nothing  at  all  about  it,  and  when  Billie  mildly  in- 
quired if  her  royal  highness  had  another  crank, 
she  did  not  refute  the  statement. 

All  during  the  long  evening  at  the  farm  while 
the  children  ate  apples  and  popped  milk-pans  full 
of  corn,  Marjorie  could  not  banish  the  vague  feel- 
ing that  something  was  wrong ;  and,  in  the  midst 
of  the  laughter  and  merriment,  her  thoughts  re- 


i8o  Rook's  Nest 

curred  constantly  to  Avis,  and  her  sudden  show  of 
affection.  On  the  whole,  she  was  glad  when  the 
evening  was  over,  and  after  Mrs.  Rogers  had 
spread  her  good-night  kisses  impartially  around, 
the  sleepy  little  band  started  homeward  along  the 
moonlit  road. 

"  You  won't  need  a  lantern,  will  you,  childies  ?  " 
she  called  as  they  left  the  garden,  and  Billie 
laughed,  and  shouted  back  that  they  were  not 
afraid  of  spooks  or  spookesses,  either. 

There  was  a  creepy  wind  abroad,  a  real,  thor- 
oughbred autumn  wind  that  came  in  quick  gusts 
and  swirls,  with  a  shrill,  sharp  whistling  through 
the  dry  branches  and  loose  leaves.  Then  the 
ground  was  hard  and  bare,  and  there  was  frost, 
and  the  very  moonlight  looked  chilly  and  un- 
friendly, as  they  huddled  together  like  a  flock  of 
sheep  and  hurried  on  toward  the  little  house. 

The  Lion  was  the  only  one  who  caused  delay. 
He  fairly  bulged  with  apples  tucked  in  every  con- 
ceivable place  about  him,  one  might  almost  say  in- 
side and  out ;  but  at  all  events,  Billie  and  the 
Lamb  each  had  hold  of  his  hands,  and  thereby 
hastened  his  movements  so  forcibly  that  every  now 
and  then  there  would  be  a  dull  thud  on  the  ground, 
and  the  Lion  would  let  out  a  sleepy  wail  for  his 
lost  treasures,  which  had  to  be  recovered  before 
any  further  progress  was  possible. 


All  Hallows'  Eve  181 

"  I  wonder  if  her  royal  highness  of  the  Imperial 
Iiik  Blot  has  been  scribbling  all  this  time,  or  if 
the  gobble-uns  have  got  her,"  Billie  grumbled,  as 
he  dropped  his  chin  deeper  down  into  the  depths 
of  his  coat  collar.  "Bet  a  cookie  she's  let  the 
kitchen  fire  go  out." 

Thsy  had  rounded  a  slight  curve  in  the  road, 
anl  now  the  Nest  could  be  seen  among  the 
stripped  lilac  bushes. 

"  There  isn't  any  light  burning,"  Marjorie  said, 
as  she  peered  eagerly  through  the  gloom.  "  Guess 
she's  in  bed.  She  looked  so  tired."  Here  she 
stopped,  and  then  quickened  her  step  almost  to  a 
run,  pausing  only  to  say  to  Billie  over  her  shoul- 
der :  "  If  it  is  out,  don't  scold  or  tease,  Billie, 
please." 

Billie  nodded  good-humoredly,  and  they  all 
started  on  a  trot  up  the  garden  path.  The  house 
was  dark  and  dreary  and  the  wind  whistled  in 
every  crack  and  crevice,  and  rattled  every  loose 
board  and  shingle,  but  there  was  a  cheery  glow 
from  the  kitchen  where  the  warm  red  firelight 
danced  a  jolly  witch  jig  with  its  shadows,  and 
Marjorie  whispered  to  them  to  walk  on  tip-toe, 
and  go  right  to  bed,  so  as  not  to  awaken  Avis. 

So  it  happened  that  it  was  not  until  after  the 
little  ones  were  all  undressed  and  tucked  in  bed, 
the  doors  fastened,  and  the  fire  attended  to  for  the 


1 82  Rook's  Nest 

night,  that  at  last  the  little  mother  took  a  lamp 
and  started  for  the  realm  of  the  four  poster.  Not 
more  than  two  minutes  later  an  apparition  ap- 
peared to  Billie  in  the  sitting-room,  Marjorie  with 
her  face  blanched  white  with  dread,  and  her  brown 
eyes  wide  and  scared. 

"Billie,  Billie,"  she  said,  in  a  queer,  broken 
voice.  "  Are  you  awake  ?  " 

"  Sure,"  Billio  returned,  sitting  up  on  his  lounge 
bed,  towsle  haired  and  round  eyed.  "  What's  up  ? 
Spooks?" 

"  S-sh ! "  Marjorie  whispered,  warningly,  "  don't 
let  the  children  hear  you."  She  glanced  over  her 
shoulder  out  into  the  hall,  and  then  came  over  to 
the  side  of  the  lounge. 

"Avis  has  gone,"  she  said,  simply. 

So  slight  and  small  she  looked  in  the  semi- 
darkness,  with  her  hands  clasped  closely  across 
her  breast,  and  her  head  bowed  a  trifle  forward 
that  Billie  was  more  frightened  by  her  appearance 
than  by  her  words.  Never  before  had  he  seen 
Muggins,  bright,  happy,  ever  hopeful,  Muggins, 
so  crushed  and  helpless,  so  different  from  her 
strong,  resolute  self,  and  he  swallowed  bac1-  a 
lump  in  his  throat  as  he  asked,  stupidly : 

"  Gone  where  ?  " 

"  Chicago !  "  answered  Marjorie,  and  from  her 
tone,  it  might  as  well  have  been  Kamchatka. 


Hallows'  Eve  183 

"  She  left  tliis  pinned  to  my  pillow.  Oh,  Billie, 
Billie,  boy,  what  shall  I  do?" 

Her  voice  broke,  and  she  knelt  beside  him,  her 
hiinds  pressed  over  her  face  as  she  sobbed  unre- 
strainedly. 

"Don't,  don't  do  that,  Muggins,"  he  faltered, 
one  hand  clutching  the  slip  of  paper  she  had 
given  him,  and  the  other  patting  the  shoulder 
nearest  to  him  in  a  bewildered  effort  to  impart 
sympathy.  "  May — maybe  it's  only  a  joke,  one  of 
her  funny  ways,  you  know.  Maybe  she's  gone 
out  for  a  walk,  Muggins." 

But  Marjorie  did  not  respond,  and  he  remem- 
bered the  letter  she  had  given  him.  The  tall,  old- 
fashioned  lamp  with  its  plump,  rosy-tinted  globe, 
and  flower-twined  stem,  stood  on  the  center-table, 
and  he  lit  it,  and  read  the  message  which  her 
royal  highness  had  left  for  them.  It  was  a  sad 
little  note,  now  brave  and  confident  in  tone,  as  it 
foretold  her  great  success,  then  again,  pitiful  and 
forlorn  as  it  begged  them  not  to  think  her  a  de- 
serter, that  it  was  the  only  thing  she  could  do  to 
add  her  mite  to  the  commonwealth,  and  as  long  as 
Aunt  Bethiah  Newell  was  coming,  she  could  go 
away  with  a  free  heart,  knowing  that  they  would 
all  be  cared  for. 

They  must  not  try  to  find  her,  or  think  that  she 
was  going  out  into  the  world  to  be  unhappy  or 


1 84  Rook's  Nest 

poor.  She  had  divided  the  story  money,  and 
Muggins'  share  was  in  the  little  blue  Chinese 
sugar  bowl  in  the  pantry.  With  all  that  she  her- 
self had  left,  she  could  manage  very  well  until  she 
got  work  on  one  of  the  newspapers  or  magazines  or 
something.  When  she  had  made  her  fortune,  she 
would  come  back  to  the  Nest,  and  they  would  all 
be  happy  with  their  very  own  money,  and  then, 
perhaps,  they  would  not  think  her  a  useless, 
dreamy  castle  builder. 

Billie  sat  up  on  the  lounge,  his  knees  drawn  up 
tentwise  beneath  the  quilts,  and  his  eyes  staring  at 
the  letter  until  the  voice  of  Marjorie  recalled  him. 

"Why  don't  you  say  something  to  help  me, 
Billie,"  she  asked,  without  raising  her  head.  "  I 
don't  believe  that  you  realize  what  it  all  means. 
She's  gone,  gone  away,  and  it's  so  cold  and  lone- 
some outside,  and  maybe  she  had  to  walk  through 
the  ravine,  and  she's  always  afraid  down  there  at 
night.  Oh,  what  can  we  do  ?  " 

If  Avis  had  appeared  then  and  there,  there 
would  have  been  a  strong  inclination  on  the  part 
of  Billie  to  fire  pillows  at  her.  As  it  was,  he 
scowled,  pursed  up  his  lips,  winked  hard  for  rea- 
sons best  known  to  himself,  and  tried  not  to  look 
down  at  the  little  figure  in  white  kneeling  beside 
him. 

"  We  can't  do  a  thing,  Muggins,"  he  said,  finally. 


All  Hallows'  Eve  185 

"  She  was  tired  of  us,  and  of  the  little  house  and 
everything.  She  said  it  was  all  slow  and  com- 
monplace, and — and  I  suppose  she'll  be  happier 
off  there  in  the  city.  Don't  you  worry  a  bit, 
dear,  or  try  to  chase  her  up.  Just  let  her  alone, 
and  let  her  flap  her  wings  all  she  wants  to,  and 
if  she's  a  bird,  why,  she'll  fly,  and  if  she's  only  a 
chicken,  then  she'll  come  back  home  to  roost." 

There  was  no  reply,  but  he  could  hear  Mar- 
jorie's  low  sobbing,  and  it  frightened  him.  Even 
when  their  mother  had  died,  Marjorie  had  not 
cried  or  given  way  like  this,  but  had  been  quiet 
and  pale  and  still. 

"  You  had  better  go  to  bed,  Muggins,"  he  urged, 
leaning  over  to  hug  her,  but  she  shook  her  head 
with  a  quick  gesture  of  dissent 

"No,  no,  I  can't  go  back  there  without  her, 
Billie,"  she  said.  "  I  can't  sleep  now,  don't  you 
understand  ?  " 

"  Humph,"  murmured  Billie,  reflectively,  think- 
ing how  queer  girls  were  anyway.  Of  course  Avis 
had  gone  away,  and  it  was  too  bad,  and  of  course 
he  felt  sorry,  too ;  but  he  didn't  see  why  they 
should  lose  all  their  sleep  just  because  Avis  had 
cut  up  one  of  her  crowning  didoes. 

Marjorie  sat  up,  and  pushed  back  her  chair. 
Her  face  was  white  and  wet  with  tears,  and  her 
eyes  shone  brightly  in  the  semi-darkness,  as  they 


1 86  Rook's  Nest 

watched  the  glimpse  of  moonlit  road  barely  visible 
from  the  window.  The  minutes  passed  slowly. 
Billie  winked  hard  to  try  to  keep  awake  for  her 
sake ;  but  after  some  hard,  ineffectual  nips  at  his 
arms,  his  head  drooped,  he  forgot  to  pinch,  and 
Marjorie  kept  her  vigil  alone. 

She  left  the  couch,  and  knelt  by  the  window 
after  extinguishing  the  light.  The  wind  was 
blowing  in  fitful  gusts,  and  every  snapping  twig 
made  her  heart  beat  faster,  and  kept  her  senses 
keenly  alert.  But  the  hours  stole  on  and  on ; 
Billie  slumbered  soundly,  and  the  only  wakeful 
heart  in  the  kingdom  of  Kattletibang  was  that  of 
the  forlorn  princess,  watching  and  waiting,  and 
hoping  against  hope,  for  the  return  of  the  run- 
away. 


CHAPTER  XH 
Avis  Tries  Her  Wings 

AND  Avis? 

When  the  8:45  train  for  Chicago  sped  away 
into  the  night  from  the  little  station  at  East  El- 
more,  it  bore  a  girl  in  grey,  with  set,  firm  lips,  and 
clear  tearless  eyes,  who  never  once  looked  out  of 
the  window  to  catch  a  last  glimpse  of  her  home ; 
but  instead,  arranged  her  satchel  and  jacket,  and 
settled  herself  comfortably  for  the  long  journey, 
as  if  leaving  home  to  go  out  into  the  world  alone 
were  an  every  day  occurrence. 

Now  that  the  decisive  step  was  taken,  and  there 
was  no  turning  back,  there  was  little  room  in  her 
heart  for  sadness,  and  none  for  regret.  She  was 
so  full  of  hope,  of  confidence  in  herself.  That  one 
lone  check  had  opened  up  the  greatest  possible 
vista  of  what  the  future  was  to  bring  her.  If  one 
small  story  could  bring  so  much,  what  would  hap- 
pen when  she  consigned  the  precious  manuscript 
of  her  first  long  story  to  the  eager  waiting  hands 
of  gracious  publishers.  No  one  knew  how  she 
had  worked  over  this  last  effort.  She  did  not 
even  read  it  to  Muggins  or  Billie.  It  was  too 

187 


1 88  Rook's  Nest 

wonderful  and  sacred  a  thing  to  be  lightly  spoken 
of.  It  would  be  bound  in  green  and  gold,  she  de- 
cided, leaning  her  head  back  on  the  velvet  cush- 
ioned seat,  and  watching  the  globes  over  the  lamps 
in  the  car  tremble  with  the  motion  of  the  train. 
Green  and  gold,  that  was  the  way  the  golden- 
haired  princesses  were  always  garbed,  and  was  not 
this  a  royal  offspring,  the  child  of  her  fancy? 
And  the  leaves  would  be  of  that  heavy,  beautiful, 
cream  tinted  paper,  like  Muggins'  copy  of  Long- 
fellow on  the  centre-table  at  home.  And  there 
would  be  her  name  in  gold  letters  across  the 
cover,  Avis  Newell  Randall,  and  how  glad  and 
proud  she  would  be  when  she  sent  the  first  copy 
home  with  a  generous  share  of  the  wealth  it  was 
sure  to  bring  her. 

And  the  dedication.  She  closed  her  eyes 
dreamily.  "Would  it  be  to  Muggins  ?  Of  course, 
to  Muggins.  Whom  else  ?  And  here  the  globes 
gradually  became  a  blurr  of  soft  light,  the  tired 
eyelids  drooped.  The  old  gentleman  across  the 
aisle  glanced  up  and  saw  the  girl  in  grey  smiling 
in  her  sleep,  and  wondered  if  she  were  so  very 
happy,  and  he  sighed  as  he  turned  over  the  page 
of  his  magazine. 

Three  hours  was  the  scheduled  time  for  the  run 
between  East  Elmore  and  Chicago,  but  to-night 
the  train  was  late,  and  it  was  nearly  two  o'clock 


Avis  Tries  Her  Wings  189 

when  Avis  was  .awakened  by  the  movement  and 
rustle  of  the  preparations  for  departure  by  her  fel- 
low travelers,  and  the  baggage  agent  came  through 
rattling  his  cluster  of  brass  checks.  No,  she  said, 
with  sleepy  dignity ;  she  did  not  wish  her  trunk 
checked,  and  then  she  nearly  laughed  aloud  as  she 
remembered  the  little  old-fashioned  black  trunk 
which  she  had  brought  away  from  home.  Then 
she  thought  of  the  story  Fred  Hartwell  would 
have  to  tell  Billie,  of  how  he  had  been  asked  to 
call  at  the  Nest  for  the  trunk  and  its  owner,  when 
he  drove  along,  after  delivering  groceries  in  Ba- 
tavia  over  the  river.  - 

She  sat  up,  and  looked  out  of  the  window. 
Nothing  to  be  seen,  but  dark  rows  of  houses,  then 
tracks,  with  now  and  then  the  flash  of  a  red  or 
green  signal  light  in  the  darkness,  and  then  at 
last,  came  the  long  station  with  its  bright,  clear 
electric  lights,  and  the  journey  was  over. 

Without  doubt,  if  it  had  been  Marjorie,  she 
would  have  been  frightened  and  bewildered  at 
finding  herself  at  two  in  the  morning  alone  in 
Chicago,  but  Avis  was  different.  City  born  and 
bred,  with  her  heart  full  of  independence  and  con- 
fidence, and  with  the  munificent  sum  of  ten  dol- 
lars and  twenty-five  cents  in  her  pocketbook,  she 
felt  that  the  whole  city  was  hers,  a  kingdom 
awaiting  its  conqueror. 


190  Rook's  Nest 

With  this  thought  uppermost  in  her  mind,  she 
followed  the  crowd  up  the  broad  marble  staircase, 
and  entered  the  warm,  cosy  waiting-room.  She 
had  planned  it  all  out  way  back  in  East  Elmore, 
just  how  she  would  remain  there  until  daylight, 
and  then  go  into  the  restaurant  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  stairs,  and  have  coffee  and  rolls  before 
she  started  out  to  explore  her  kingdom,  and  the 
program  was  carefully  adhered  to. 

A  few  hours'  more  sleep  with  only  the  sing- 
song tones  of  the  official  who  announced  the  de- 
parture of  trains  to  break  the  silence,  a  few  min- 
utes for  the  ten  cent  breakfast,  and  she  left  the 
depot  at  8:30. 

When  Rob  had  spread  his  wings  for  the  flight 
from  the  home  nest,  the  all  important  question 
had  arisen  of  where  he  was  to  live,  and  many 
comical  descriptions  of  boarding-houses  and  land- 
ladies had  he  written  home,  to  all  of  which  Avis 
had  listened  with  the  greatest  interest,  and  now, 
in  her  pocketbook,  was  a  precious  slip  of  paper 
with  a  name  and  address  on  it. 

"It  is  a  fine  place,"  Rob  wrote.  "I  saw  a 
splendid  old  lady  with  white  hair,  but  she  only 
took  ladies  to  board,  so  I  had  to  start  off  on  a 
fresh  hunt.  Mr.  Keith  gave  me  the  name  of  that 
place,  so  that  I  was  awfully  sorry  to  lose  it." 

Marjorie  had  been  reading  the  letter  aloud,  and 


Avis  Tries  Her  Wings  191 

at  this  point  Avis  had  turned  to  Mr.  Keith  as  he 
sat  at  the  table  looking  over  Billie's  lessons,  and 
had  asked: 

"  Where  is  the  place,  and  what  is  her  name  ?  " 

"  Madame  Penionte,"  Alljn  had  replied,  with  a 
reminiscent  smile.  "  She  is  a  charming  old  lady 
with  whom  I  boarded  while  in  the  city  with  my 
mother,  and  now " —  he  had  hesitated,  and  a 
shadow  of  sadness  had  come  in  his  grey  eyes,  as 
he  bent  lower  over  the  books  again,  "  now,  mother 
has  gone,  and  I  have  not  seen  Madame  for  many 
years.  Things  have  changed,  of  course,"  and  he 
had  written  out  the  address  and  handed  it  to  her. 

So  it  was  here  that  her  royal  highness  deter- 
mined to  go,  and  every  policeman  from  the  North- 
western depot  to  Dearborn  Street  was  interrogated 
as  to  the  location  of  Madame's  dwelling  place,  un- 
til at  last  she  found  herself  over  another  bridge, 
and  leaving  the  smoky,  crowded  heart  of  the  city 
behind.  Straight  ahead,  the  policeman  at  the 
bridge  had  said,  and  she  went  on  feeling  strong 
and  capable  of  any  achievement,  observant  of 
everything  around  her,  and  with  no  thought  of  the 
little  Nest  and  its  inmates,  so  very  far  away  all 
that  part  of  her  life  seemed  even  now. 

It  was  near  Huron  Street  that  she  found  the 
place.  A  tall,  brown  stone  four-story  house,  on 
Dearborn  Avenue,  slim  and  plain,  one  of  many  of 


192  Rook's  Nest 

the  same  kind,  only  this  one  had  square  bay  win- 
dows and  a  low  French  doorway  without  steps, 
opening  directly  on  the  street.  As  Avis  raised 
her  hand  to  press  the  electric  bell,  the  heavy  door 
of  oak  and  plate  glass  swung  suddenly  open,  and 
a  young  girl  came  out  in  a  hurry  singing  to  her- 
self, and  almost  running  into  Avis. 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  sorry,"  she  said,  penitently,  and 
stopped  to  look  at  the  stranger,  her  hands  in  the 
pockets  of  her  short  tan-colored  jacket,  her  brown 
eyes  full  of  interest.  It  was  the  brown  eyes  that 
made  Avis  like  her  on  the  spot,  because  they 
made  her  think  of  Muggins,  and  she  asked  if 
Madame  Penionte  was  at  home. 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  she's  always  at  home,"  returned  the 
other,  cheerfully.  "  "Want  to  see  her  ?  All  right, 
wait  half  a  minute.  I'll  hunt  her  up.  You  can 
come,  too." 

Avis  followed  her  into  the  low,  dim  vestibule, 
and  waited,  while  her  new  acquaintance  vanished 
into  unknown  regions,  calling  in  a  full,  clear  voice  : 

"  Oh,  Madame !     Madame,  dear !  " 

After  a  little  delay  she  returned  laughing. 

"  She'll  be  here  in  a  minute  or  two,"  she  said, 
confidentially.  "  Just  take  a  seat  anywhere.  Oh, 
look  out  for  the  enameled  chair.  It's  cracked. 
You  see,  Madame' s  got  her  puffs  in  curl  papers, 
and  she  doesn't  want  to  come  out  until  she's  fixed. 


Avis  Tries  Her  Wings  193 

She's  awfully  particular.  Are  you  going  to 
stay?" 

"  I  hope  so,"  Avis  answered,  simply. 

"  So  do  I.  I'm  the  only  one  on  the  fourth,  and 
it's  so  lonesome.  You  can  get  the  hall  room  for  a 
dollar.  Good-bye.  I  have  to  be  down  at  nine." 

She  nodded,  and  started  for  the  door,  but 
turned  again,  her  hand  on  the  brass  knob. 

"What's  your  name?     Mine's  Betty  Morgan." 

"  Mine's  Avis  EandalL" 

"  From  the  country  ?  " 

Avis  flushed,  and  became  a  shade  more  digni- 
fied. It  was  terrible  to  look  as  if  you  came  from 
the  country. 

"Yes.     Why?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  exactly.  You  were  polite, 
and  anxious,  and  I  thought  perhaps  you  were.  If 
you  get  homesick,  just  have  a  good  hard  cry.  It 
clears  you  out  better  than  anything  I  know.  I 
have  only  been  here  a  little  over  a  year.  And, 
honest  and  true,  it  isn't  nearly  as  hard  as  it  looks. 
Good-bye." 

She  was  gone,  and  Avis  waited.  For  the  first 
time  since  she  had  left  Book's  Nest,  her  heart 
failed  her,  and  she  felt  a  lump  rise  slowly  in  her 
throat;  but  suddenly  there  was  a  soft  footfall  be- 
hind her,  and  she  rose  to  meet  Madame  Penionte. 
A  very  stately,  gracious  old  lady,  as  Mr.  Keith  had 


194  Rook's  Nest 

described  her,  clad  in  dull  soft  black,  with  a  whk« 
chiffon  tie  around  her  throat,  a  trifle  awry  as  if  it 
had  been  tied  on  in  a  hurry.  Her  eyebrows 
arched,  the  corners  of  her  mouth  turned  up  with 
a  little  half  whimsical  suggestion  of  a  smile,  her 
nose  was  as  aristocratically  aquiline  as  Marie 
Antoinette's,  and  the  snow  white  hair  was  combed 
high  from  the  broad,  fine  brow  with  many  a  puff 
and  twirl.  Truly  a  dame  of  high  degree,  Avis 
thought,  and  a  dread  flashed  though  her  mind  that 
the  dame  might  possess  the  manner  grande  like- 
wise, but  when  Madame  addressed  her  the  fear 
vanished,  for  it  was  in  a  sweet,  mellow  voice  that 
might  have  come  from  some  quaint  old  portrait, 
and  under  its  spell  Avis'  embarrassment  melted 
away.  There  was  the  merest  suggestion  of  an 
accent,  the  roll  of  an  r,  or  an  odd,  long  drawn  out 

"  You  wish  to  remain  with  me,"  she  began,  gen- 
tly. "And  you  are  strange  here,  too?  Is  is  not 
so?" 

Then  Avis  told  her  brief  story,  that  she  was 
from  East  Elmore,  that  Mr.  Keith  had  told  her  of 
Madame,  and  that  she  was  a  writer  and  had  come 
to  the  city  to  pursue  her  profession  there, — this  last 
with  a  half  unconscious  throb  of  pride,  and  a  squar- 
ing of  her  slender  shoulders.  At  once  Madame 
was  interested  and  sympathetic.  Keith  ?  Ah,  that 


Avis  Tries  Her  Wings  195 

was  a  charming  couple,  the  son,  yes,  yes,  Allyn, 
that  was  it,  he  was  ever  so  kind,  so  tender  to  his 
mother,  and  she,  Madame  Keith,  ah !  was  it  not 
that  she  was  so  fine,  so  much  the  lady.  And  now, 
Miss  Randall  was  their  friend,  and  would  make 
her  home  with  her?  That  was  well.  She  had 
not  so  many  young  ladies  now,  only  one  in  fact, 
near  Miss  Randall's  age ;  that  was  Betty,  or  as 
Madame  called  it  prettily,  Bettee ;  and,  as  she  said 
the  name,  a  soft  look  came  in  her  eyes,  as  though 
she  loved  it. 

"Yes,  I  know  her,"  Avis  exclaimed,  eagerly. 
"At  least  I  met  her  here  this  morning,  and  she 
said  that  there  was  a  room  on  the  fourth  floor  near 
her.  Could  I  have  that  ?  " 

To  be  sure  she  could.  And  would  not  Bettee 
be,  oh!  so  glad  to  have  her,  for  it  was  lonely 
there  by  herself. 

"  And — and  the  board  ?  "  asked  Avis,  hesitat- 
ingly, as  she  rose  to  go  up-stairs.  As  she  spoke, 
she  thought  of  her  ten  dollars,  and  it  looked  some- 
what smaller.  She  had  almost  forgotten  one  had 
to  eat  in  the  city. 

Madame  smiled,  and  made  a  quaintly  deprecat- 
ing gesture  with  her  slender  blue  veined  hands. 

"  I  do  not  give  board,  but  Bettee  knows.  She 
will  tell  you  all  about  how  to  eat." 

Avis  received  this  doubtful  information  in  silent 


196  Rook's  Nest 

wonderment,  but  said  no  more.  Madame  took  a 
key,  and  Avis  followed  her  up  three  flights  of 
steps  to  the  first  door  at  the  top.  It  was  a  long 
way  up  those  three  flights  of  stairs,  even  the  first 
time,  and  seemed  longer  every  time  she  climbed 
them  in  the  weeks  that  followed. 

"  The  way  into  my  parlor  is  up  a  winding  stair, 
And  I  have  many  curious  things  to  show  you  when  you're 
there." 

That  was  what  Betty  would  sing  when  she  ran  up 
them,  and  it  suited  the  long,  narrow  flights,  twirl- 
ing round  and  round  until  it  seemed  as  though  it 
must  be  Jack's  Beanstalk,  only  there  was  no  ogre 
at  the  top  waiting  for  one.  Nothing  at  all  save  a 
plain,  narrow  hall  with  three  doors,  opening  off  it, 
and  an  old-fashioned  skylight  overhead. 

Avis  found  that  her  room  was  not  at  all  luxuri- 
ous ;  but  it  was  the  one  spot  in  the  city  that  was 
to  be  home  to  her,  and  it  seemed  good  to  have  a 
place  she  could  call  her  very  own.  She  looked  it 
over  carefully.  There  was  an  oak  three-quarter 
folding  bed  that  just  squeezed  in  the  space  between 
the  doorway  and  the  side  wall,  and  she  liked  it  be- 
cause it  had  a  full  length  mirror  in  it.  Billie 
would  have  said  that  was  just  like  Avis.  There 
was  a  tall  chiffonier,  and  a  very  small  table,  and  a 
worn  camp-rocker.  Best  of  all,  though,  was  the 
broad,  double  window  looking  out,  not  on  the 


Avis  Tries  Her  Wings  197 

street  so  much  as  on  the  city.  There  was  precious 
little  of  the  street  to  be  seen,  merely  a  bird's-eye 
view,  but  the  world  of  roofs  lay  open  to  her,  and 
a  very  interesting  world  it  is,  too,  when  one  be- 
comes accustomed  to  it,  and  can  appreciate  its 
peculiar  beauties.  Many  a  lonely  evening  Avis 
spent  by  that  window  before  the  frost  came  to 
bluiT  it,  and  the  lights  of  the  city  would  twinkle  at 
her  like  loving  eyes. 

That  first  day  passed  simply.  After  a  general 
freshening  up  of  her  toilette,  her  royal  highness 
started  forth  to  view  her  new  domain.  First  of  all, 
she  had  decided  back  at  the  Nest,  she  would  visit 
the  office  of  the  magazine  which  had  accepted  her 
story,  "  A  Prince  in  Disguise."  Surely  the  au- 
thorship of  a  story  in  five  chapters  would  entitle 
her  to  some  esteem  in  the  eyes  of  the  publisher. 
And  perhaps  she  could  secure  some  good  advice 
as  to  her  new  story,  that  wonderful  story  which 
was  to  thrill  the  world,  and  shower  ducats  on  the 
little  Nest. 

She  found  the  place  without  any  trouble,  a  tall 
handsome  building  on  Dearborn  Street,  and  the 
elevator  boy  let  her  off  at  the  fourth  floor. 

"  To  your  right,"  he  said,  when  she  asked  for 
further  direction,  so  she  closed  her  lips  tightly, 
and  entered  the  first  door  she  came  to. 

"The  editor?"  repeated  the  girl  at  the  tele- 


198  Rook's  Nest 

phone  switch  board  in  answer  to  Avis'  low  toned 
query.  "  That  big  red  desk  down  in  the  corner. 
Yes,  the  one  with  the  rail  around  it." 

The  consciousness  that  this  mighty  unknown 
had  actually  accepted  some  of  her  work,  buoyed 
her  up,  and  she  crossed  the  room  to  the  desk 
whose  broad  back  faced  the  room,  with  the  mental 
vision  of  a  tall,  cross  looking  person  with  eye- 
glasses behind  it. 

When  she  reached  the  desk,  she  stood  there 
gazing  in  astonishment  upon  the  person  perched 
in  a  big  editorial  chair.  It  was  Betty  Morgan. 
Betty  minus  the  jacket,  with  papers  pinned,  girl 
fashion,  around  her  sleeves  to  protect  them  from 
the  dust. 

Betty,  with  newspapers  stacked  about  her  in  the 
liveliest  confusion  possible,  with  a  paste  pot  be- 
fore her,  and  a  pair  of  scissors  in  her  hands  as 
she  slashed  with  deadly  precision  into  the  columns 
of  the  press.  When  she  recognized  the  tall  girl 
in  the  grey  dress,  she  smiled  and  nodded  with 
quick  friendliness. 

"  So  you  found  me  out  so  soon,"  she  said. 
"  Did  Madame  send  you  ?  Sit  right  down  in  that 
chair,  Avis.  I'm  going  to  call  you  Avis,  because 
we'll  be  awfully  well  acquainted  by-an-by,  you 
know.  How  did  you  find  your  way  around  town  ? 
Did  you  get  the  room  on  my  floor  ?  " 


Avis  Tries  Her  Wings  199 

Avis  took  the  proferred  seat,  and  tried  to  look 
composed  under  this  sudden  tangle  of  circum- 
stances. After  she  had  caught  her  breath,  she 
answered : 

"  I  did  not  expect  to  see  you  at  all.  I  came  to 
see  the  editor." 

Betty  stared  a  moment,  and  then  asked, 
serenely : 

"Why?  I'm  the  editor,  or  the  nearest  ap- 
proach to  one  around  here.  I  used  to  be  Miss 
Ogden's  assistant,  and  just  look  out  for  the 
letters  and  exchanges ;  but  she  left  a  month  ago, 
and  we  use  syndicate  work  now.  So  all  I  have  to 
do  is  make  up  the  pages,  and  that  isn't  a  bit  hard." 

"  Then  it  must  have  been  Miss  Ogden  who  ac- 
cepted my  story,"  Avis  faltered.  "'A  Prince  in 
Disguise,'  was  the  name  of  it." 

"Your  story?"  exclaimed  Betty.  "Forever- 
more  !  I  wondered  what  you  could  do  when  I 
saw  you  this  morning.  Girls  who  come  to  the 
city,  always  have  something  they  can  do,  don't 
you  know.  I  thought  I  could  model  Goddesses 
of  Liberty,  and  different  things,  but  when  you 
have  to  count  the  pennies,  you  forget  about  what 
you  want  to  do,  and  skirmish  around  to  find  any- 
thing you  can  do.  You're  lucky  to  have  a  story 
taken.  Are  you  as  old  as  I  am.  Nineteen  ?  " 

"Only   seventeen,"   Avis    replied.     "But    I've 


200  Rook's  Nest 

done  a  good  deal  of  writing.  I — I  have  a  book 
with  me." 

"  That's  what  they  all  have,"  Betty  remarked  to 
the  paste  pot,  a  trifle  sadly.  "  And  you  want  to 
find  a  publisher,  and  you  think  you'll  find  them 
waiting  with  bouquets  and  checks  all  drawn  up, 
I  know.  Is  it  clever  ?  " 

"  It  isn't  half  bad,"  Avis  said,  bravely.  "  The 
name  of  it  is  '  Lorraine's  Legacy.' " 

"  Pretty,"  commented  the  editor,  sagely.  "  Last 
one  I  saw  was  'Ethelberta's  Sister.'  There  wasn't 
any  sister.  It  was  all  Ethelberta.  But  never 
mind,  you  may  be  a  budding  genius.  Wait  till 
to-night,  and  then  I'll  look  it  over.  I  couldn't 
take  it  here  now,  but  I  can  tell  you  where  to  send 
it,  and  give  you  lots  of  pointers.  Have  you  been 
to  lunch  ?  " 

Avis  had  not,  so  she  willingly  accepted  the 
other's  invitation  to  join  her,  and  they  went  out 
together.  It  seemed  novel  to  have  so  confident 
and  fearless  a  guide  as  Betty. 

"  I  know  every  one  of  the  crookedey  corners," 
she  said,  laughingly.  "And  there  are  lots  and 
lots  of  them.  The  dearest,  funniest,  out-of-the- 
way  places  that  hardly  any  one  knows  anything 
about.  It  seems  as  if  they  all  belonged  specially 
to  me.  That's  the  joy  of  being  acquainted  with 
the  city,  don't  you  know?  I've  got  my  very  own 


Avis  Tries  Her  Wings  201 

corner  in  the  library.  Way,  way  up-stairs,  at  the 
top  of  the  south  rotunda  there  is  a  seat  that  looks 
as  if  it  had  coine  from  some  old  Italian  garden. 
That's  mine.  Then  there's  a  place  down  by  the 
lake  shore,  past  the  Institute,  where  there's  the 
best  corner  to  go  and  dream.  Over  the  under- 
ground station,  it  is,  and  it  looks  like  the  battle- 
ments of  a  castle  steep.  And  those  precious  lions 
in  front  of  the  Institute.  Just  wait  till  they  know 
you  so  well  that  they  wag  an  iron  paw  at  you 
when  you  go  by.  And  that  bridge  at  Dearborn 
Street,  bless  it.  Tou  haven't  seen  it  at  sunset, 
have  you,  when  you're  all  tired  out  and  blue? 
Oh,  I've  got  lots  of  things  to  show  you.  Here's 
my  manger.  Look  out  for  the  stairs." 

She  turned  around  an  alley  abruptly,  just  back 
of  the  Venetian  building,  and  ran  lightly  down  a 
flight  of  stairs  into  a  cafe.  There  were  little  round 
bare  tables  here  and  there,  and  Betty  paused  a 
moment  to  draw  a  couple  of  glasses  of  water  on 
her  way  to  one  of  them. 

"  I  like  this  place,  cafetiera,  they  call  it,  because 
you  can  hustle  'round  and  help  yourself,"  she 
said,  adding  confidentially :  "  And  you  can  fill  up 
gloriously  on  fifteen  cents.  Sit  down  here.  I'll 
be  back  in  a  minute." 

Avis  obeyed,  and  leaning  back  in  the  chair, 
gazed  about  her  with  interest  as  she  drew  off  her 


202  Rook's  Nest 

gloves.  It  seemed  queer  to  see  every  one  helping 
themselves,  some  at  the  pie  and  cake  counter,  some 
over  at  the  coffee  and  tea  urns,  but  everything  was 
exquisitely  neat,  and  most  of  the  patrons  of  the 
little  restaurant  were  bright  faced  girls,  chatting 
and  laughing  among  themselves,  and  brimful  of 
bon  camaraderie. 

Presently  Betty  returned,  bearing  deftly  two 
minced  ham  sandwiches,  a  dish  of  pickles,  two 
cream  puffs,  and  some  potato  salad. 

"  There !  "  she  said,  triumphantly.  "  Isn't  that 
a  feast  for  thirty  cents.  Now  talk  and  eat." 

"  Do  you  always  eat  at  restaurants,"  asked  Avis, 
remembering  what  Madame  had  told  her,  and 
thinking  of  her  nine  dollars  or  less.  But  Betty 
laughed  and  shook  her  head. 

"  No,  ma'am.  I  can't  afford  it  I  have  my  own 
cafe  on  the  fourth  floor.  Wait  till  to-night,"  and 
she  nodded,  mysteriously,  as  she  reached  for  a 
pickle.  "  Never  mind  me.  Tell  me  all  about  your- 
self. Where  did  you  come  from,  and  why,  and 
everything." 

If  Marjorie  and  Billie  could  have  seen  her  royal 
highness,  reserve  and  dignity  tossed  to  the  winds, 
eating  pickles  and  cream  puffs,  and  chatting  to  a 
stranger  of  all  her  pet  plans  and  dreams,  they 
would  have  been  amazed.  And  while  she  talked 
on  and  on  of  Book's  Nest  and  of  the  meragerie, 


Avis  Tries  Her  Wings  203 

some  way  the  lunch  lost  its  charm,  and  her  appe- 
tite failed  her. 

"That's  enough  for  now,"  said  Betty,  finally, 
rising  from  the  table.  "  You're  getting  choky  and 
homesick,  and  it  isn't  a  bit  of  fun  crying  down 
town.  Wait  till  to-night." 

After  she  had  said  good-bye,  and  started  home- 
ward, more  than  ever  Avis'  heart  longed  for  a 
sight  of  the  dear,  merry  circle  of  faces  around  the 
old  kitchen  table,  and  at  last  when  she  reached 
the  little  hall  bedroom  she  sat  down  and  wrote  a 
letter  to  Marjorie.  Not  a  long  one,  nor  an  inter- 
esting one  either. 

"  DEAR  MUGGINS,"  it  read,  "  I  am  here  at  last  in 
the  city,  and  have  a  very  nice  comfortable  room. 
It's  all  splendid,  and  I  know  I  will  succeed,  but  I 
am  a  little  homesick  just  now."  Splash  number 
one.  "  Do  not  worry  or  imagine  me  scattered  in 
little  pieces  under  cars  or  wagons.  Please  do  not 
tell  Rob  I  am  here.  Kiss  them  all  for  me,  and 
tell  Billie  to  please  not  scold  me  and  be  cross." 
Splash  number  two.  "I  will  come  home  some 
day.  Lovingly,  your  sister, 

"  Avis  NEWELL  RANDALL." 

After  she  had  mailed  it,  the  door  was  locked, 
and  a  desolate  limp  figure  curled  up  on  the  bed  in 


204  Rook's  Nest 

the  kail  bedroom,  and  had  a  long,  •wretched  cry 
all  to  herself,  before  she  fell  asleep.  Dreams  and 
publishers  faded  away,  and  in  all  the  wide  world 
there  seemed  no  happy  spot  but  the  little  despised 
Nest  Her  royal  highness  was  homesick  at  last 


CHAPTER  Xffl 
A  Guest  From  Boston 

So  the  great  day  came  at  last,  and  instead  of 
being  a  day  of  gladness,  and  bright  hopes,  it  was 
a  lonely,  dreary  day,  for  the  shadow  that  had 
fallen  so  suddenly,  had  changed  the  Nest  from  a 
house  of  feasting  into  a  house  of  mourning.  The 
children  stepped  about  on  tip-toe  as  if  Avis  were 
dead,  instead  of  only  gone  to  win  fame  and  fortune. 
It  was  Billie  who  broke  ^he  news.  When  morn- 
ing came,  and  he  awakened,  Marjorie  was  herself 
again,  only  pale  and  very  quiet,  and  there  were 
dark  shadows  under  her  brown  eyes. 

"You  must  tell  Dora  and  the  others,  Billie," 
she  said,  when  he  came  out  into  the  kitchen,  while 
she  prepared  the  table  as  usual.  "  I  can't.  But 
Billie,"  as  he  nodded,  solemnly,  and  turned  to 
obey,  "  break  it  gently,  and  don't  scold  Avis." 

Billie  broke  it  beautifully.  He  strode  into  the 
schoolroom  with  heavy,  lowering  brow,  and  war- 
like mien. 

"  Are  you  youngsters  going  to  sleep  all  day  ?  " 
he  demanded.  "  Something's  happened." 

205 


2o6  Rook's  Nest 

"  Has  she  come  ?  "  gasped  the  Lamb,  sleepily. 

"No.  She's  gone ! "  returned  the  herald,  loudly, 
his  hands  in  his  pockets,  his  feet  wide  apart. 
Three  anxious,  heavy-eyed  forms  struggled  to  a 
sitting  posture,  and  regarded  him  in  bewildered 
surprise. 

"  Whoth  gone  ?  "  asked  the  Lion  at  last,  and  the 
answer  came  like  a  thunderbolt : 

"Avis!!" 

"  Oh,  forev'more,"  cried  Winnie,  and  there  be- 
ing an  immediate  yowl  of  woe  from  the  Lion,  she 
recovered  in  time  to  join  in  the  chorus. 

But  Dora  took  the  shock  differently.  She  was 
on  the  floor  in  an  instant,  and  past  Billie,  flying 
out  to  the  kitchen.  Before  she  knew  what  had 
happened,  Marjorie  felt  two  plump,  strong  little 
arms  clasped  tightly  around  her  neck,  and  Dora's 
wide  open  brown  eyes  were  looking  straight  into 
hers. 

"  Honest  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Honest  and  true  has 
she  gone  ?  " 

Marjorie  could  only  nod  assent,  but  the  warm 
loving  embrace  which  she  received  brought  greater 
comfort  to  her  in  her  trouble  than  any  words  could 
have  done.  No  one,  not  even  Billie  or  the  Lamb, 
fully  realized  the  ache  in  her  heart  that  day,  the 
utter  loneliness  that  swept  down  on  her  when  she 
looked  at  the  closed  desk  in  the  schoolroom,  or 


A  Guest  From  Boston  207 

the  many  little  marks  of  Avis'  taste  and  handi- 
work about  the  house.  No  one  saw  her  kneel  by 
the  desk,  and  kiss  its  smooth  surface,  while  tears 
splashed  down  and  made  round  slippery  little 
spots  on  the  rosewood.  No  one  saw  her  in  the 
quietude  of  her  own  room,  as  she  packed  away 
Avis'  treasures  with  tender  care. 

"I  know  she  would  not  like  Aunt  Bethiah  to 
have  them,"  she  said  afterward  to  Billie.  "  And  I 
mean  to  let  her  have  this  room  now." 

"  But  where  are  you  going  to  sleep  ?  "  demanded 
Billie,  anxiously. 

"With  Dora  or  "Winnie,"  Muggins  answered, 
wearily.  "  It  doesn't  matter,"  and  Billie  secretly 
worried  as  he  saw  the  new  tired  look  in  her  soft 
eyes. 

"  My,  I  hope  Aunt  Bethiah  will  be  nice,"  he  said 
to  Dora,  when  all  the  work  for  the  day  was  over, 
and  they  were  ready  to  start  for  the  station.  Only 
the  two  girls  and  Billie  were  going  after  all,  to 
welcome  the  guest.  Reggie  had  labored  nobly  in 
the  good  cause  all  day,  and  had  finally  fallen  in 
his  tracks,  a  crumpled,  tired  little  heap  in  the  cor- 
ner, fast  asleep.  So  when  she  found  him,  Mug- 
gins took  him  in  her  arms,  and  undressed  him, 
and  the  rest  left  her  in  the  little  sitting-room  rock- 
ing him  back  to  sleep,  with  the  soft  hazy  shadows 
of  the  early  November  twilight  closing  round. 


208  Rook's  Nest 

Mr.  Rogers'  double  seated  carriage  had  been 
borrowed  by  the  intrepid  Dora,  and  Darling  was 
the  charger  of  the  occasion.  It  was  a  very  attrac- 
tive equipage  that  waited  at  Elmore  station  that 
evening,  and  a  very  cosy  looking  row  of  small  per- 
sons that  lined  up  when  the  first  smirch  of  smoke 
stained  the  far  off  sky.  All  were  solemn  and  anx- 
ious. The  Owl's  feelings  were  at  such  a  point  of 
tension  that  a  crisis  was  imminent,  but  Billie 
scowled  heavily  upon  her,  and  commanded  order. 

"If  she's  cross" —  Billie  began,  under  his 
breath,  as  the  train  drew  near. 

"  What  ?  "  whispered  the  Lamb. 

"  I'll  run  away  to  Avis,"  he  concluded,  fiercely. 

"  And  leave  Muggins  ?  "  There  was  a  world  of 
scorn  in  his  trusty  comrade's  tone ;  but  already 
some  passengers  were  alighting,  and  there  was  no 
chance  for  further  talk.  An  old  lady  came  first. 
But  that  was  Mrs.  Tracy,  and  the  doctor  was  there 
to  meet  her.  A  young  man  with  a  traveling  case 
followed.  He  took  the  hotel  omnibus. 

"  Oh,  dear,"  Dora  murmured,  as  the  last  of  the 
baggage  was  thrown  out,  and  the  train  gave  a  warn- 
ing whistle.  "  She  didn't  come." 

"There's  another,"  Winnie  exclaimed,  pointing 
her  finger  at  a  tall  figure  at  the  other  end  of  the 
platform. 

"It's  a  man,"  Billie  returned.     "Do  you  sup- 


A  Guest  From  Boston  209 

pose  Aunt  Bethiali  Newell  from  Boston  wears  an 
overcoat  and — and  " 

He  paused  abruptly.  The  figure  was  coming 
slowly  toward  them  evidently  with  a  purpose  in 
view.  "When  the  electric  light  fell  full  on  the 
stranger,  they  had  a  good  look  at  him.  He  was 
tall,  but  not  thin.  Just  right,  Dora  said  afterward, 
and  he  wore  a  dark  grey  overcoat,  and  a  tall  silk 
hat.  The  latter  he  raised  when  he  reached  the 
little  group,  and  they  could  see  his  wavy,  iron  grey 
hair,  and  long  moustache. 

"  Is  Marjorie  here  ?  "  he  asked,  and  after  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation,  Billie  plucked  up  courage. 

"No,  sir,"  he  replied,  his  cap  off  in  a  hurry. 
"  AVe're  the  rost.  Muggins  is  home.  Have  you 
seen  Aunt  Bethiali  ?  " 

The  stranger's  face  was  very  grave,  and  his 
voice  tender,  as  he  answered  gently : 

"  Aunt  Bethiah  left  me  only  a  few  weeks  ago  for 
the  far  country.  It  has  made  me  very  happy  to 
take  up  what  would  have  been  her  loving  interest, 
and  help  you  all.  I  am  Uncle  Harvey." 

Billie  eyed  him  doubtfully.  It  was  hard  to 
have  everything  turned  topsy-turvy  in  a  moment, 
but  the  more  he  looked  at  the  firm,  handsome  face, 
the  better  he  liked  it.  After  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion, he  grasped  Uncle  Harvey's  hand  with  a  warm 
clasp  of  hearty  welcome.  In  fact,  on  the  way 


210  Rook's  Nest 

home,  he  found  a  chance  to  whisper  in  the  Lamb's 
ear,  that  he  rather  liked  him  better  than  if  it  had 
been  otherwise.  Whereupon  Dora  waxed  highly 
indignant,  and  wanted  to  know  if  he  had  forgotten 
that  Uncle  Harvey  had  been  a  cross  old  duffer 
once  upon  a  time. 

Marjorie  was  seated  in  the  window  watching  for 
them.  She  had  put  Reggie  to  bed,  and  then  had 
taken  a  final  look  around,  thinking  far  less  of  the 
coming  guest  than  of  the  bird  who  had  flown. 
The  trees  were  bare  now,  and  the  lilac  bushes 
stripped  of  leaves,  too,  and  the  little  Nest  stood 
desolate,  and  quaint  in  its  empty  garden  like  some 
forlorn  grey  rabbit  left  out  in  the  cold.  When 
the  carriage  drove  up  the  road  from  the  ravine, 
she  tried  to  pull  herself  together,  as  Billie  called 
it,  and  look  cheerful ;  but  it  cost  a  great  effort, 
and  she  wondered,  as  the  children  had  done,  if 
Aunt  Bethiah  was  nice. 

It  was  all  over  in  a  minute.  Billie  took  charge 
of  the  stranger,  and  managed  the  introduction 
splendidly. 

"There  isn't  any  Aunt  Bethiah,  Muggins,"  he 
cried,  the  words  fairly  tumbling  over  each  other 
in  his  hurry  to  break  the  news.  "  Or  at  least, 
there  is  an  Aunt  Bethiah,  only  he's  Uncle  Harvey. 
See?" 

Before  Marjorie   could   catch  her   breath,  the 


A  Guest  From  Boston  2 1 1 

stranger  had  kissed  her,  and  then  said,  holding 
her  at  arms  length  : 

"  And  this  is  Muggins,  Princess  of  Rattletibang. 
I  had  expected  to  see  a  very  dignified  person, 
judging  from  Billie's  letters." 

"  Oh,  Muggins  is  never  dignified,"  cried  Billie, 
warmly.  "  Only  her  royal  highness  was  dignified." 

Marjorie  glanced  at  him,  pleadingly,  but  he  went 
on: 

"That's  Avis,  you  know,  Uncle  Harvey.  She 
writes  stories,  and  things,  and  she's  gone  away  to 
seek  her  fortune.  And  there's  another,  Reggie, 
and  he's  asleep." 

Uncle  Harvey -was  silent  There  was  an  anx- 
ious look  in  the  brown  eyes  of  the  princess,  and 
he  wondered  what  its  cause  might  be.  It  was  not 
until  Dora  and  Winnie  had  said  good-night,  that 
he  heard  the  whole  story  in  sections  from  the  man 
of  the  house  and  the  princess.  It  was  a  sad,  little 
story,  and  a  trifle  hard  to  understand  rightly,  for 
while  Billie  would  dilate  on  Avis'  general  cranki- 
ness, Marjorie  defended  her  loyally. 

"  What  was  the  name  of  the  magazine  which 
accepted  her  story  ?  "  aSked  the  old  gentleman, 
with  a  half  smile,  and  Muggins  repeated  it  proudly, 
The  American  Beauty. 

"  Do  you  know  it,  sir  ?  "  Billie  asked. 

"Somewhat,"    he   replied,  polishing    his    eye- 


212  Rook's  Nest 

glasses,  thoughtfully,  with  a  white,  silk  handker- 
chief. Then,  after  a  pause,  he  turned  to  Marjorie. 
"  I  do  not  think  I  would  worry  over  her,  Marjorie. 
From  what  you  have  said  I  imagine  she  is  self- 
reliant  and  resolute,  and  can  look  after  herself 
very  well.  It  will  not  last  long." 

"  Then  you  won't  help  me  find  her  ?  "  and  there 
was  a  tremble  in  Marjorie's  voice,  as  she  raised 
her  head  to  look  at  him. 

"  Not  just  yet.  Let  her  try  her  wings,  as  Billie 
says;  You  are  certain  to  hear  from  her,  and  when 
I  go  to  the  city  I  can  easily  find  a  trace  of  her. 
You  know  I  have  come  West  on  business  as  well 
as  pleasure." 

At  this  Billie's  eyes  opened  wider.  He  had 
heard  fabulous  tales  of  the  Newell  wealth,  and 
here  it  was  all  invested  in  Uncle  Harvey.  A  sud- 
den idea  struck  him,  and  he  exclaimed,  impul- 
sively : 

"  Say,  Uncle  Harvey,  didn't  mamma  have  any 
share  in  Grandpa  Newell's  money  ?  " 

Marjorie  stared  at  the  wall.  She  could  almost 
feel  how  the  words  struck  Uncle  Harvey,  and  yet 
her  heart  beat  fast  as  she  waited  for  his  answer. 
So  many  times  Avis  and  she  had  wondered  why 
it  was  that  Uncle  Harvey  and  Aunt  Bethiah  were 
so  wealthy,  while  their  own  dear  little  mother  had 
no  share  in  the  Newell  fortunes. 


A  Guest  From  Boston  213 

Uncle  Harvey  looked  grave,  and  seemed  to  con- 
sider before  he  answered,  slowly  : 

"  No,  Billie.  My  father  was  a  stern  man.  He 
did  not  consent  to  her  marrying  Mr.  Randall,  and 
— and  he  changed  his  will  after  she  came  West." 

"  Well,  it's  a  shame,"  cried  Billie,  hotly.  "  Bet 
if  Grandpa  Newell  could  see  us  poked  away  in 
this  little  place,  all  poor  and  everything,  with  no 
one  to  care  for  us,  he'd  have  changed  back.  It 
isn't  fair." 

A  slight  flush  tinged  Mr.  Newell's  face,  but  he 
smiled  kindly  at  the  two,  bright,  anxious  young 
faces  upturned  to  him. 

"I  don't  think  it  is  fair  either,  Billie,  and 
neither  did  Bethiah,"  he  said.  "  That  is  one  rea- 
son why  I  have  come  West" 


CHAPTER  XIV 

Betty  Morgan,  Editor 

"  HELLO,  hello,  central !  " 

At  tlie  sound  of  the  clear,  ringing  voice  outside 
her  door,  Avis  started  up  from  her  long  sleep,  and 
admitted  Betty  Morgan. 

"  Been  pounding  away  for  two  whole  minutes," 
the  latter  said,  severely,  as  she  took  possession  of 
the  cainp-rocker.  "  The  idea  of  going  to  sleep  in 
the  day  tims.  I  almost  begrudge  the  nights, 
they're  so  long.  I'd  like  to  be  awake  all  the  time. 
Your  trunk's  out  in  the  hall.  We'll  have  supper 
in  my  room,  and  then  I'll  show  you  all  my  treas- 
ures, and  you  can  show  me  yours,  all  the  Nest 
things,  you  know.  And  I  want  to  hear  that  won- 
derful story,  too." 

Avis  smiled.  The  mention  of  her  story  never 
failed  to  brighten  her,  and  with  Betty's  assistance 
she  drew  the  old  black  leather  trunk  into  the 
room,  and  uncorded  it. 

"Let's  wait  till  after  supper  before  you  open 
it,"  Betty  said.  "I'm  hungry  enough  to  bite 

214 


Betty  Morgan,  Editor  215 

door-knobs,  and  besides,  I  want  to  show  you  my 
room." 

It  certainly  was  a  wonder,  that  large  back  room, 
with  its  windows  just  catching  a  glimmer  of  Lake 
Michigan.  To  be  sure  the  lace  curtains  were 
dingy  with  smoke  and  dust,  and  the  furniture  was 
the  heavy  old-fashioned  phish  kind,  and  the  car- 
pet was  bald  in  spots,  and  shaved  too  close  in 
others,  but  all  the  same  it  was  a  wonder.  There 
was  a  marble  washstaud  set  in  the  wall,  with  a 
good-sized  cupboard  above  it,  and  the  latter  was 
Betty's  larder.  Her  hat  and  jacket  were  tossed 
over  in  a  corner,  and  her  sleeves  rolled  up  in  a 
jiffy 

"Now,  first,"  she  said,  "we'll  take  the  books 
off  this  table  and  draw  it  up  beside  the  bed.  I 
like  it  here  because  I  can  bolster  myself  up  at  the 
foot  of  the  bed  with  a  good  book,  and  read,  and 
lie  there  and  nibble,  and  read  until  I'm  sleepy, 
unless  I  go  out  somewhere." 

"  "Where's  the  table-cloth  ?  "  asked  Avis. 

Betty  tossed  over  the  morning  paper. 

"Take  that,"  she  replied.  "I've  got  a  can 
of  sardines  left,  and  some  crackers  and  cheese, 
and  I'll  make  a  cup  of  tea,  and  we'll  toast  the 
cheese." 

After  she  had  spread  the  papers  out  on  the 
table,  Avis  gave  up  her  share  of  work,  and  sat 


216  Rook's  Nest 

down  to  watch  Betty's  busy  preparations,  won- 
dering greatly  at  the  revelations  made.  There 
was  a  plump,  jolly  looking  little  brown  teapot 
which  Betty  fixed,  and  placed  on  a  diminutive 
one-burner  gas  stove  about  as  large  as  a  saucer, 
which  had  a  rubber  tube  fastened  to  one  of  the 
gas  jets. 

"  Madame  does  not  care  if  I  use  the  gas,"  the 
cook  said,  while  she  sliced  cheese  into  a  little 
granite  saucepan,  and  seasoned  it  lightly.  "  I  have 
great  feasts  up  here,  and  sometimes  she  comes  up 
herself  and  joins  me.  She  is  only  fifty,  even  if 
her  hair  is  white,  and  sho's  the  dearest,  gentlest, 
old  lady,  so  well-bred  and  refined.  You  may  open 
the  sardines.  The  can  opener  is  over  there 
under  those  magazines,  I  think.  I  left  it  there 
last  time." 

It  was  a  delicious  feast,  a  forerunner  of  the 
many  which  followed,  Betty  took  possession  of 
the  end  of  the  bed,  and  sat  there  in  state,  backed 
by  pillows,  and  giving  much  advice  to  the  "  bud- 
ding genius,"  as  she  still  called  Avis.  The  pre- 
cious manuscript  lay  beside  her,  and  she  read  a 
page  now  and  then,  while  the  author  waited 
anxiously  for  her  verdict. 

"  It's  good,"  she  said  at  last,  waving  a  cheese 
sandwich  solemnly  at  Avis.  "  It's  first-rate,  only 
a  little  too  much  in  the  clouds  to  be  quite  practical. 


Betty  Morgan,  Editor  217 

Why  on  earth  did  you  write  a  love  story.  Every- 
body \\rites  love  stories,  but  maybe  this  will  go. 
Shall  I  go  over  it  for  you  and  fix  it  up  ?  It  ought 
to  be  typewritten,  too." 

"  Oh,  dear,"  murmured  Avis,  a  little  pucker  of 
wrinkles  coming  on  her  forehead,  as  this  fresh  en- 
tanglement presented  itself.  "  I  copied  it  all  so 
carefully." 

"  Of  course,  you  did,"  assented  Betty,  heartily. 
"  It's  neat  and  pretty  enough  to  be  framed,  but  all 
the  same  that  won't  do  these  days.  Everybody 
who  is  anybody  must  be  up-to-date  if  they  want 
to  keep  in  line  and  win.  I  know.  It  took  me 
three  months  to  find  out  about  things,  and  the 
right  way  to  do  them ;  and  I  don't  believe  I  would 
have  awakened  up  then,  only  that  I  was  hungry. 
AVcre  you  ever  hungry  and  couldn't  get  anything 
to  eat?" 

Avis  hesitated,  thinking  of  that  first  night,  under 
the  lilacs,  but  relief  had  come  so  soon,  such  a  small 
experience  did  not  count. 

"  Not  really,"  she  answered. 

Betty  shook  her  head  sadly. 

"It's  awful,"  she  said.  "I  get  ten  dollars  a 
week  now,  but  when  I  helped  Miss  Ogden,  I  got 
only  seven,  and  I  had  to  send  some  home,  you 
know,  so  it  used  to  be  a  tight  squeeze  some- 
times." 


218  Rook's  Nest 

"  Did  you  ever  read  a  cook-book,"  asked  Avis, 
laughingly,  as  she  suddenly  remembered  Billie's 
scheme,  and  when  Betty  said  no,  she  told  her  all 
about  it. 

"I  don't  see  how  you  could  ever  have  had 
courage  enough  to  leave  such  a  dear,  jolly  crowd," 
the  latter  said  at  last,  with  a  sigh.  "  If  I  had  been 
so  happy" —  she  paused,  and  her  lips  tightened 
slightly,  then  she  went  on.  "  I  am  an  '  orfling,' 
as  our  office  boy  says.  I  don't  even  remember  my 
father  or  mother ;  guess  I  grew  like  Topsy.  I  used 
to  live  in  Michigan  with  an  aunt,  Aunt  Felicia. 
She  tried  to  be  good  to  me,  but  she  was  an  old 
maid,  and  never  liked  children,  anyway,  and  she 
used  to  say  that  I  was  the  cross  she  had  to  bear 
through  life.  She  never  would  tell  me  about  my 
father  at  all,  only  said,  she  was  my  mother's  sis- 
ter, and  that  mamma  had  died  there  in  South  Haven, 
and  left  me  a  baby  with  her.  I've  got  mamma's 
picture,  but  none  of  papa,  and  Aunt  Felicia  al- 
ways called  me  by  her  name,  Morgan.  Isn't  it  all 
queer.  Here's  the  picture." 

She  rose  quickly,  and  went  over  to  the  bureau. 
Avis  followed,  and  looked  at  the  photograph  in 
the  quaint  frame  of  hand  beaten  bronze.  It  was 
a  bright,  pretty  face  of  a  young  woman  about 
twenty.  Her  hair  was  wavy  like  Betty's,  and  hung 
in  long  heavy  braids  at  the  back,  and  the  eyes  had 


Betty  Morgan,  Editor  219 

the  same  laughing  twinkle  in  them  from  under  the 
long  lashes  which  Betty's  had. 

"  Isn't  it  odd  to  think  that  she's  my  very  own 
mother  ? "  went  on  Betty,  looking  at  the  picture 
over  Avis'  shoulder.  "  She's  so  young  there,  only 
a  year  older  than  I  am  now.  Sometimes  I  sit  and 
look  and  look  at  it,  and  wish  it  would  speak  and 
tell  me  all  I  want  to  know.  But  I  have  always 
felt  rather  sorry  for  Aunt  Felicia.  I  know  I  was 
a  terror  when  I  was  little,  and  bothered  her  dread- 
fully. Did  you  ever  sit  on  a  fence  and  fish  for 
grasshoppers  on  a  hook?  I  used  to,  and  that 
bothered  her.  I  used  to  run  away,  too,  and  tramp 
and  tramp  away  off  in  the  woods,  and  everywhere, 
and  she'd  have  to  hunt  me  iip,  and  I  guess  that 
bothered  her,  too.  And  I  could  never  sit  and 
braid  rags  for  rugs,  or  do  any  of  those  nice  sensi- 
ble things  she  said  she  did  when  she  was  a  girl, 
and  she  said  I  was  slack,  and  gave  up  all  hope. 
So  I  came  away  as  soon  as  I  could,  but  I  send  her 
money  all  the  time,  because  she  did  try  hard  to  be 
good  to  me,  only  she  didn't  know  how  to  mother 
me,  you  know.  That's  all  about  me.  Show  me 
everything  that  came  from  the  Nest,  and  we'll  fix 
up  the  room.  I've  got  some  tacks." 

After  giving  the  table  a  hasty  clearing,  they  re- 
turned to  the  hall  bedroom,  and  before  long  Betty 
had  mounted  a  chair,  and  was  tacking  up  pictures, 


220  Rook's  Nest 

while  Avis  arranged  her  pretty  odds  and  ends 
around  the  bureau,  and  on  the  mantel  over  the 
folding  bed. 

"  Say,  are  you  very  rich  ? "  asked  Betty,  sud- 
denly, after  a  long  pause.  "  I  mean,  have  you  a 
good  solid  foundation  of  dollars  to  stand  on  before 
you  earn  any  more." 

Avis  took  her  green  leather  pocketbook  from 
the  drawer  and  emptied  its  contents  on  the 
table. 

"  Eight  dollars,  sixty-three  cents,  and  a  button," 
commented  Betty,  pursing  up  her  lips  in  surprise. 
"  Four  dollars  a  month  for  your  room,  four  sixty- 
three  left  over  for  food,  car  fare,  etc.  You  can't 
do  it.  That  will  last  you  about  two  weeks  if  you 
are  very  careful,  and  live  on  air  and  ginger  snaps. 
Can  you  get  any  more  from  home  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,"  cried  Avis,  proudly.  "  I  wouldn't 
ask  for  a  cent  from  them,  and  they  don't  know 
where  I  am." 

Betty  gasped  indignantly. 

"  Avis  Randall,  haven't  you  told  Muggins  where 
to  write  ?  " 

Avis  shook  her  head. 

"Then  you  must  write  now,  right  away — to- 
night. If  you  don't,  I  will." 

"Oh,  I'll  write,"  said  Avis,  carelessly,  "only  I 
didn't  want  to  before  I  had  made  a  start  of  some 


Betty  Morgan,  Editor  221 

kind.  I  will  send  the  story  away  at  once,  and  find 
some  work  to  do  in  two  weeks." 

Betty  nodded  her  bead  approvingly. 

"  That's  the  proper  spirit,  madam.  I  had  it  my- 
self until  I  came  down  to  ten  cents  and  a  large  ap- 
petite. Now,  first,  if  you  sell  that  story  in  three 
months,  you  may  think  yourself  lucky,  because 
most  papers  like  the  American  Beauty  accept  one 
year,  publish  the  next,  and  pay  the  next  Maybe 
not  quite  as  bad  as  that,  but  almost.  Miss  Ogden 
always  insisted  on  sending  the  checks  out  at 
once,  but  she  was  different  So  I  think  that  in 
two  weeks  you'll  be  in  the  town  of  worry  unless 
something  turns  up." 

Avis  sat  with  her  chin  resting  on  her  palms,  re- 
garding her  advisor  anxiously.  She  was  startled 
and  troubled,  too,  by  what  Betty  said ;  but  still 
she  could  not  believe  it  Of  course  ordinary  writ- 
ers had  such  trials.  They  did  not  possess  such  a 
treasure  as  the  wonderful  story  which  was  to  be 
bound  in  green  and  gold.  Betty  did  not  quite  un- 
derstand her  advantage  over  the  rest  of  the  world, 
that  was  all.  She  smiled  confidently,  and  smoothed 
down  a  dog  eared  leaf  in  the  manuscript  lying  be- 
side her. 

"I  think  I'll  be  all  right,"  she  said,  after  a 
pause.  "  Where  would  you  send  it  first  ?  " 

"  East,"  returned  Betty,  promptly.     "  They  pay 


222  Rook's  Nest 

more  money,  and  you  stand  a  better  chance.  Chi- 
cago means  well,  but  it's  so  afraid  it  may  do  some- 
thing to  be  laughed  at,  you  know,  that  unless  some 
one  knows  how  to  coax  it  around,  it's  awfully 
chilly  to  anything  new.  Send  the  story  east  right 
away.  I'll  give  you  some  names  of  publishers,  and 
you  can  take  your  chance  with  the  rest." 

"I — I'd  rather  sell  it  here,"  said  Avis,  thought- 
fully. 

Betty  drove  in  her  last  tack  with  unwonted 
vigor,  and  descended  from  the  chair. 

"  Well,  go  ahead  and  do  it  your  own  way,"  she 
returned,  shortly.  "  It's  the  only  way  you'll  learn. 
I  had  to  learn  by  experience,  and  so  will  you.  It's 
late  now,  and  you  look  as  sleepy  as  an  owl  at 
noon.  Good-night,  sleep  tight  and  cry  all  you 
can.  If  you  get  real  lonesome,  pound  on  the  wall, 
and  I'll  come  in."  She  crossed  the  room,  and 
opened  the  door,  nodding  in  her  happy-go-lucky, 
friendly  way  over  her  shoulder,  but  when  she  saw 
the  homesick  look  in  Avis'  blue  eyes,  she  stopped 
short. 

"You  look  like  a  lost  kitten,"  she  said,  de- 
cidedly, "  and  aren't  fit  to  be  left  alone  in  this  little 
cubby  hole  of  a  room.  Come  on  with  me,  and 
we'll  make  believe  I'm  Muggins,  and  you  are  under 
the  four  poster.  Now,  don't  straighten  up  and 
look  as  though  somebody  had  pulled  your  hair. 


Betty  Morgan,  Editor  223 

Come  on  and  be  sociable.     Then  to-morrow  morn- 
ing we  can  have  breakfast  together." 

There  was  no'  loophole  for  refusal,  and  on  the 
whole  Avis  was  only  too  glad  to  have  company  on 
that  first  night  So  it  happened  that  there  were 
no  tears  at  all,  and  her  royal  highness  slept  as 
soundly  as  if  the  brown  head  on  the  next  pillow 
was  really  Harjorie's. 


CHAPTER  XV 

Letters 

'•BOOK'S  NEST,  Nov.  4,  1900. 

"MY  OWN  DEAB  A  VIS  : 

' '  Billie  brought  your  letters  from  the  post-office  yes- 
terday, and  I  read  them  aloud  to  the  menagerie  after  supper 
in  the  kitchen.  Winnie  and  Reggie  tore  the  envelope  in 
two,  and  each  has  their  share  in  their  treasure  boxes.  I 
think  the  Lion  stuffed  his  into  the  broken  head  of  that  old 
sawdust  doll  he  loves  so  much. 

"We  are  so  glad  you  are  homesick.  I  was  afraid  that 
once  you  were  away  from  the  Nest,  and  alone,  you  would 
be  wrapped  up  in  your  work  and  would  hardly  have  time  to 
remember  us.  We  are  getting  on  splendidly.  I  gave  Mr. 
Rogers  the  use  of  the  barn  for  his  stock  during  the  winter, 
and  in  exchange  have  all  the  wood  and  vegetables  we  will 
need.  I  wish  you  could  see  Billie  and  Mr.  Keith  out  in  the 
shed  chopping  wood.  He  is  so  nice,  Mr.  Keith,  I  mean.  I 
did  not  want  to  send  the  little  ones  way  across  the  ravine 
to  school,  and  so  he  has  taken  Billie  and  Dora  in  charge, 
and  I  have  the  Owl  and  Lion  to  teach.  He  comes  over 
every  evening. 

"I  have  closed  your  desk,  and  packed  away  the  things 
you  loved.  Do  you  wish  me  to  send  them  to  you?  I  hate 
to  part  with  them.  It  seems  as  if  they  were  all  I  had  left 
of  you.  You  do  not  know  how  much  we  miss  you.  Every 
once  in  awhile  I  find  Winnie  and  Reggie  off  in  a  corner  cry- 
ing, all  by  their  lonelies,  and  all  the  Lion  thinks  of  is  that 
the  <  dragonth  are  waiting  to  pounth  on  you  in  the  awful 

224 


Letters  225 

thity.'    I  tell  them  that  your  fairy  godmother  will  keep 
watch  over  you.     I  only  hope  she  will. 

"Avis,  dear,  I  send  you  the  money  you  left  in  the  sugar 
bowl.  I  cannot  take  it  from  you  when  I  know  how  much 
you  will  need  it.  You  know  we  are  all  well  taken  care  of, 
and  you  are  all  alone.  It  seems  to  me  as  though  you  were 
adrift  at  sea,  without  chart  or  compass,  and  no  pilot  to  lead 
you  on.  Do  be  careful,  for  little  mother's  sake.  Just  be 
strong,  and  brave,  and  for  pity's  sake  don't  go  out  these  cold 
winter  days  without  your  overshoes.  If  you  were  taken 
sick  way  off  there,  I  believe  I  would  hire  a  balloon  or  a 
Bagdad  carpet,  or  something,  and  come  to  you. 

"  Mrs.  Rogers  sends  her  love,  and  says,  '  Bless  her,  she'll 
take  the  cake  yet.'  "We  had  a  letter  from  Bob.  He  is  still 
studying  at  the  Art  Institute,  but  has  been  doing  outside 
work  for  some  newspaper,  I  forget  which,  and  expects  to 
secure  a  position  shortly  on  the  art  staff.  I  have  not  told 
him  you  are  in  Chicago,  but  I  hope  you  will  meet  him  some 
day.  I  think,  perhaps,  he  might  be  able  to  help  you. 

"I  have  apple  pies  in  the  oven,  and  the  Lion  just  sat 
down  in  a  pan  of  molasses  the  Owl  had  ready  for  candy,  so 
I  must  go  and  look  after  my  menagerie. 

"  Do  write  often  and  tell  me  all  about  yourself.  The  rest 
are  all  going  to  write  to  you,  too.  I  am  so  glad  you  found  a 
friend  so  soon.  What  fun  you  must  have  cooking !  You 
know  you  never  could  bear  to  cook,  or  fuss  over  a  stove, 
and  it  seems  so  comical  to  think  of  your  liking  it  now. 

"Write  long  letters. 

"  Lovingly, 

"  MUGGINS." 

"  CASTLE  RATTLETIBANG,  Nov.  4,  1900. 
"  HELLO,  YOTTR  BOYAL  HIGHNESS  : 

"I  know  I  was  cross  that  night,  sol  thought  I'd 
write  and  say  I  am  glad  you're  homesick,  and  hope  you  will 
be  all  the  time.  Muggins  has  cried  herself  blue,  but  I  told 


226  Rook's  Nest 

her  you'd  swim  all  right  as  soon  as  you  caught  the  stroke. 
Just  look  out  for  snags.  They  give  you  awful  nips  some- 
times. 

"  The  Enchanted  Goblin  swallowed  the  white  mice,  and 
tried  the  grey  squirrel,  and  the  squirrel  got  mad,  and  nearly 
bit  his  head  off,  and  a  weasel  got  Martha  Washington,  and 
a.ll  we  found  were  the  tail  feathers,  and  Dora's  written  some 
poetry  for  her,  too,  and  we  buried  the  feathers,  and  put  up 
a  shingle  side  of  George's  grave. 

"  '  She  might  have  died  of  chicken  pox, 

She  might  have  died  of  measles, 
She'd  have  been  laying  eggs  this  blessed  day, 
If  it  hadn't  been  for  weasels.' 

"  '  So  with  tears  we  lay  her  low, 

Of  Martha  we  are  bereft, 
Beside  George  Washington's  noble  form, 
Tail  feathers  are  all  that's  left.' 

"  I  think  if  Dora  tried  real  hard,  she'd  make  a  splendid 
poet.  There's  a  go  to  it  you  can't  find  in  Longfellow,  and 
she  always  gets  the  point  without  warbling  about  floppy 
willows,  and  gurgling  brooklets  and  things. 

"I  like  that  Betty  Morgan  that  you  said  could  make 
Welch  rarebit.  You  can  tell  her  I  say  she's  all  right. 
When  you  come  trotting  home  in  your  chariot  of  fire,  please 
bring  Betty  on  the  back  seat. 

"Aunt  Bethiah — (Muggins  just  looked  over  my  shoulder 
and  pinched  my  ear,  so  I'm  not  to  write  any  more  on  the 
above  subject.) 

"I  guess  that's  all.  I  hope  you'll  get  on  all  right,  but  I 
don't  think  you  will.  You're  not  a  good  fighter,  and  you 
cry  too  much,  but  never  mind.  Maybe  you'll  come  home 
with  a  putty  medal  yet.  The  Lion  was  going  to  write,  but 
Muggins  is  trying  to  make  him  stop  sitting  down  until  she 


Letters  227 


can  got  the  molasses  off ;  he  sticks  to  things,  so  I  guess  he'll 
wait  until  next  time. 

"So  love  and  kind  regards,  from  your  brother, 

••  I ;n. MI:  WILLIAM  RANDALL." 

"P.  S.— If  you  see  any  foreign  stamps  don't  be  afraid  to 
send  thorn.  Muggins  says  if  you  want  any  cough  medicine 
likr  Mrs  Rogers  makes,  she'll  send  you  a  bottle.  Rob's  K°t 
some.  If  you  see  Rob,  tell  him  not  to  forget  yours  respect- 
fully, W.  R." 

"DEAB  Avis: 

"  I'm  in  a  hurry.  I  wanted  to  send  you  the  turtle, 
but  Billie  said  you'd  make  soup  of  it  when  your  money  was 
all  gone,  so  I  will  keep  it. 

"Lovingly  your  affectionate,  and  devoted  sister, 

"THE  LAMB." 

"  DARLING  Avis : 

"I  love  you,  and  so  does  the  Lion,  and  we  want  you 
so  much.  Please  come  home  Christmas.  There's  a  funny 
noise  in  the  cellar,  and  we  don't  know  what  makes  it.  Bil- 
lie says  its  rats,  but  I  think  it's  a  griflin  with  a  tail.  So 
does  the  Lion.  I  love  you  lots.  Please  get  rich  soon,  and 
come  home. 

"  WINNIE." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

The  Threshold  of  Fame 

"Now,  what  are  you  crying  for,  madam.  I 
never  saw  such  a  perpetual  weeper  in  my  life. 
Drip,  drip,  drip.  Large,  salty  drips  at  morning, 
noon  and  night.  Look  here,  Avis."  Betty  dropped 
her  hair  brush  and  turned  squarely  around  to  face 
the  culprit.  "You've  got  to  show  more  plain, 
everyday  grit.  This  is  not  a  joke,  neither  is  it  a 
funeral.  You've  got  to  brace  up,  and  get  ready 
and  charge  on  the  enemy." 

Avis  sat  on  the  window-sill,  and  looked  out  at 
the  drenched,  sloppy,  chilly  world  that  three  days 
of  November  rain  had  made  of  Chicago.  The  bud- 
get of  letters  from  Rook's  Nest  lay  in  her  lap,  and 
as  Betty  said,  she  had  been  having  a  steady,  cry- 
ing spell  ever  since  sho  had  opened  them. 

Avis  was  certainly  low  spirited ;  and,  as  time 
passed  and  she  saw  no  signs  of  the  golden  future 
that  she  had  expected  to  see  open  before  her,  she 
became  more  and  more  downhearted.  Two  weeks 
dragged  themselves  by  slowly,  and  still  no  sign  of 
hope  or  encouragement  appeared.  Under  Betty's 

228 


The  Threshold  of  Fame  229 

direction,  the  story  had  been  dispatched  to  a  pub- 
lishing firm  in  the  city,  and  day  by  day  Avis  had 
waited  in  brave  hearted  uncertainty  for  a  response. 

Meanwhile  the  precious  little  stack  of  ready  cash 
had  dwindled  down  lower  and  lower,  until  the 
coming  of  Muggins'  share  had  been  a  heaven  sent 
relief. 

At  the  end  of  the  second  week,  Betty  had  pro- 
posed a  plan  that  would  be  advantageous  to  both, 
and  save  a  little  of  Avis'  capital.  Accordingly, 
the  hall  bedroom  was  given  up,  and  the  trunk 
moved  into  the  large  back  room. 

"  It  is  ever  so  much  better  for  us  both,"  Betty 
said,  decidedly.  "  You  can  pay  half  the  rent  when 
you  have  it,  and  when  you  haven't,  I  won't  push 
the  trunk  over  the  banisters.  And  if  hard  times 
come,  why,  we'll  fight  them  together,  and  poke  the 
wolf  away  with  our  noble  swords,  the  which  are 
hatpins.  That's  bad  grammar,  I  think,  but  it 
sounds  well  So  you've  got  to  make  the  bed,  and 
tidy  up,  as  Aunt  Felicia  used  to  say,  and  sit  over 
there  by  the  window,  and  chew  your  pencil  all  day, 
while  I  go  out  to  toil  in  the  cold,  cold  world.  It 
is  getting  cold,  too.  I  shall  certainly  have  to  un- 
pack my  sealskin  pretty  soon.  If  you  go  out,  re- 
member what  Muggins  said,  'Don't  forget  your 
rubbers.' " 

Avis  had  moved  into  her  new  quarters  with  a 


230  Rook's  Nest 

decided  sense  of  relief.  Madame  Penionte  would 
come  up-stairs  sometimes,  and  glance  in  at  the 
slender,  solitary  figure  bending  over  the  table  at 
the  window,  and  nod  smilingly. 

"Do  not  stir  for  me,  dear,  no,  no.  It  is  just  to 
see  that  you  are  not  lonely  that  I  come.  And  here 
is  the  little  cake  of  raisins  for  Bettee  that  she  loves 
so  much." 

Always  when  she  came  it  was  with  some  little 
donation  for  them  and  a  word  of  cheer  for  Avis, 
until  the  latter  came  to  look  forward  to  her  visits, 
as  most  welcome  interruptions  in  the  long  monot- 
ony of  the  day's  routine.  At  first  she  had  taken 
Betty's  advice,  and  gone  out  for  long  walks ;  but 
these  grew  lonesome  and  tedious,  and  she  pre- 
ferred to  wait  until  the  latter's  homecoming,  when, 
after  the  happy,  little  supper,  the  two  would  go  for 
a  stroll  northward  to  Lincoln  Park,  or  eastward  to 
the  lake  shore. 

One  day,  toward  the  end  of  November,  Betty 
came  flying  up  the  stairs  and  into  the  room  like  a 
personified  tornado  on  a  small  scale. 

"  Prepare  for  a  shock,  ma'am.  Leave  that  old 
stove  alone  and  listen  to  me.  We  are  not  poor 
struggling  geniuses  to-night.  "We  are  of  the  elect. 
Don  your  violet  velvet  trimmed  in  golden  butter- 
flies, and  order  the  pumpkin  and  mice.  No,  I 
don't  want  any  supper.  We've  only  got  an  hour 


The  Threshold  of  Fame  231 

to  get  ready.  Wash  that  smudge  off  your  face  and 
hustle.  This  is  a  jumping,  joyous  jubilee  for 
we'uns." 

"  Is  it  theatre  tickets  ?  "  asked  Avis,  forgetting 
the  four  dainty  lamb  chops  cooking  on  the  little 
spider,  for  under  Betty's  tutelage  the  seven  o'clock 
dinner  had  developed  into  quite  a  formal  affair. 
Once  before  she  had  come  home  singing  a  song  of 
triumph,  and  waving  a  couple  of  tickets  in  the  air. 
They  were  not  box  seats,  but  that  night  no  one 
in  the  whole  audience  at  the  Grand  Opera  House 
had  enjoyed  "Cyrano  de  Bergerac,"  as  the  two, 
eager  faced  young  persons  bending  over  the  rail  of 
the  second  balcony.  They  had  laughed  with  the 
kiiight  of  the  nose  in  his  valor  and  strength,  glo- 
ried in  his  bold  cadets  of  Gascony,  and  their  ex- 
ploits, and  cried  loyally  when  the  leaves  fell  and 
the  great  soul  passed  away. 

For  days  afterward  Betty  had  gone  about  in  a 
blissful  state  of  rapture.  She  bought  a  copy  of 
the  book,  a  very  modest,  paper  covered  copy,  and 
at  night  she  declaimed  its  lines  up  in  the  back 
room,  with  the  bed  for  a  stage,  and  Avis  for  an 
audience,  and  they  had  resolved  to  adopt  Cyrano's 
grand  free  philosophy  of  life  for  their  own. 

But  to-night  Betty  shook  her  head. 

"  No,  we  can't  afford  luxuries  more  than  once  a 
year.  This  is  an  invitation  to  an  informal  recep- 


232  Rook's  Nest 

tion  and  all  that  sort  of  thing  at  Miss  Louise 
Elaine  Wade's  studio,  Fine  Arts  Building,  and 
everybody  who  is  anybody  in  the  literary,  artistic, 
and  newspaper  world  will  be  there,  because  Louise 
Elaine  is  a  bright  and  shining  light  in  said  liter- 
ary, artistic,  and  newspaper  world.  I  don't  know 
her,  but  Miss  Ogden  does,  and  she  was  up  to  see 
me  to-day,  and  asked  if  I  would  like  to  go  with 
her.  And  I  said  I  would  be  tickled  to  death, — I 
mean — most  delighted,  only  for  my  own  budding 
genius  at  home,  and  she  said  tender  climbing 
vines  must  be  fostered,  and  for  us  both  to  appear 
on  the  threshold  of  Paradise  at  8:30  sharp,  and 
she  would  introduce  us  to  Louise  Elaine,  and  some 
of  the  other  great  ones  of  this  mighty  city  by  the 
Michigander  Sea.  So." 

Avis  gave  a  sigh  of  deep  content. 

"  Have  a  chop  ?  "  she  said,  laughingly,  rescuing 
the  supper  from  a  sizzled  fate ;  and,  after  a  glance 
at  the  clock  on  the  mantel,  Betty  decided  to  par- 
take. Then  came  the  question  of  toilettes,  and  a 
most  serious,  momentous  question  it  was  under 
stress  of  existing  circumstances.  The  grey  dress 
was  Avis'  "  bestest,"  as  "Winnie  used  to  say,  and 
Betty  commanded  that  the  long  braids  be  "put 
up." 

"  Let  me  fix  you,"  she  said,  and  thereupon  the 
soft  blonde  hair  was  twisted  into  a  fluffy,  puffy 


The  Threshold  of  Fame  233 

knot  at  the  nape  of  Avis'  neck,  and  a  transforma- 
tion wrought. 

"Now  the  grey;  genius  is  always  modest,  and 
that  long,  narrow  pink  scarf  you  showed  me  the 
other  day.  That's  it,"  and  she  passed  the  scarf 
twice  around  the  slim  throat,  and  tied  it  in  two, 
dainty,  loose  bows,  one  beneath  the  other,  and  the 
long  embroidered  ends  fell  below  her  waist 

"  There,  I  rather  think  that  will  do,"  said  the 
self-appointed  maid,  critically,  standing  off  to  see 
the  result  "Now,  just  wait  half  a  minute  for 
yours  very  sincerely." 

A  freshly  laundried  shirt  waist  hung  over  the 
back  of  a  chair,  a  white  creation  of  innumerable 
tucks,  and  rows  of  lace  insertion. 

"  In  a  moment  of  rash  extravagance  I  indulged 
in  this  beauty,"  Betty  murmured,  as  she  struggled 
sp.-isinodically  into  it,  and  wrestled  with  a  collar 
button.  "  Two,  seventy-five  out  of  my  poor  little 
ten  a  week.  And  a  high  collar,  and  a  black  satin 
stock.  How's  that  Does  it  look  like  the  proper 
caper  ?  " 

She  stood  before  the  looking-glass  in  the  bureau, 
arms  akimbo,  sternly  scrutinizing  the  young  per- 
son who  scowled  back  at  her. 

"  It's  splendid,  all  except  the  collar,"  Avis  said, 
thoughtfully.  "That  makes  you  look  so  cross 
and  choky." 


234  Rook's  Nest 

"  Well,  you  have  to  wear  one  to  make  tlie  rib- 
bon stand  up  stiff,"  Betty  returned,  with  a  sigh  of 
resignation.  "  Come  on.  It's  late,  and  we  can't 
afford  to  make  a  triumphal  entre  an  hour  after  the 
time,  when  we  aren't  prodigies  yet." 

It  was  a  clear,  bright  night,  with  a  crisp,  frosty 
sharpness  in  the  air  that  made  them  walk  fast  and 
turn  up  their  jacket  collars.  Crossing  to  Clark 
Street,  they  took  a  south  bound  cable  car  to  Mon- 
roe Street,  and  then  hurried  across  to  Michigan 
Avenue. 

"  Don't  you  love  the  city  at  night  ?  "  Betty  ex- 
claimed once,  pausing  in  her  breathless  pace  to 
look  back  at  the  flashing  lights  toward  State 
Street.  "  It  always  looks  like  a  lot  of  fireworks 
to  me.  And  don't  you  know,  it  makes  one  think 
of  some  great  underground  city,  like  those  the 
gnomes  lived  in,  as  if  the  buildings  were  the 
knolls,  and  the  lights  the  funny  little  firefly  lan- 
terns the  gnomes  carried." 

"  The  Owl  and  the  Lion  would  love  you,"  Avis 
said,  laughingly.  "You  ought  to  see  their  gun- 
nome  cave,  as  they  call  it." 

"  Maybe  I  will,  some  day,"  replied  Betty,  hope- 
fully. "  I  feel  as  if  there  was  a  snuggley  corner 
for  me  somewhere  in  the  Nest,  now.  Here  we 
are.  Do  you  feel  shivery?  Is  my  collar  all 
right?" 


The  Threshold  of  Fame          235 

Avis  answered  vaguely.  She  was  gazing  around 
the  long,  marble  hall,  as  they  waited  for  the  eleva- 
tor. It  was  all  so  wonderful,  this  first,  faint 
i.  ali/ation  of  her  hopes.  Here  she  was,  on  the 
Cuvshold  of  a  real,  true  literary  coterie,  received 
as  one  of  the  favored  few.  If  Muggins  and  Billie 
had  only  been  there  to  witness  her  triumph. 

They  stopped  at  the  tenth  floor,  and  went  down 
the  corridor,  to  where  an  open  door  emitted  a 
bright  glow  of  light. 

"I  know  the  place,"  Betty  whispered.  "Had 
to  come  here  for  Louise  Elaine's  picture  to  run  in 
the  magazine,  under  'Women  in  Art.'  Wonder 
if  you  and  I  will  ever  be  under  '  Woman  in  Art.' " 

Avis  would  have  hesitated  a  moment  at  the 
door,  but  not  so  Betty.  She  led  the  way  into  the 
wide  cosy  studio  with  an  air  as  serene,  and  as 
much  at  ease  as  if  she  had  been  Madame  herself. 
It  was  early.  Only  a  few  groups  of  two  or  three 
persons  were  seated  here  and  there  on  the  corner 
divans  and  tete-a-tete  chairs,  and  Avis  had  an  op- 
portunity to  take  a  quick  survey  of  the  room, 
while  Betty  glanced  about  for  a  familiar  face. 

It  was  delightfully  arranged  and  decorated,  and 
Avis'  fancy  leaped  forward  to  the  happy  time  when 
she,  too,  should  reign  in  a  real  studio,  and  give  re- 
ceptions to  the  elect.  The  walls  were  covered 
with  rich,  dull,  green  burlap,  that  formed  an  affec- 


236  Rook's  Nest 

tive  background  for  a  perfect  whirl  of  posters, 
sketches,  and  here  and  there  some  famous  bas-re- 
lief, showing  white  and  cool  in  the  flame  of  colors. 
A  large  alcove  was  half  curtained  off  at  one  end  of 
the  room,  and  seemed  to  be  a  conglomeration  of 
Persian,  Indian,  Japanese,  and  Mexican  trophies, 
all  united  in  the  most  charming  cosmopolitan 
style.  Beneath  the  oriental  lamp  which  lighted 
this  retreat,  stood  two  ladies,  and  the  instant 
Betty's  eye  spied  them,  she  made  her  way  to 
them. 

"  Miss  Ogden,"  she  said,  laying  her  hand  upon 
the  arm  of  the  taller  one,  "this  is  my  friend, 
Avis  Randall,  of  whom  I  told  you." 

Miss  Ogden  turned  with  a  frank,  kindly  smile 
of  interest,  and  took  Avis'  hand  in  a  warm  clasp. 
She  was  decidedly  plain  of  feature,  the  latter 
thought,  with  a  little  feeling  of  disappointment. 
She  was  like  Winnie  in  her  love  of  beauty ;  but 
still,  considering  the  smile  and  its  effect,  there  was 
something  almost  attractive  about  the  broad,  firm 
mouth  and  light  grey  eyes  which  shone  behind 
the  rimless  eye-glasses,  perched  atop  an  undeni- 
ably retrousse  nose.  But  the  fluffy,  carelessly  ar- 
ranged hair  was  hopelessly  red,  not  bronze  gold, 
or  ruddy  blonde,  but  simply  red,  and  Avis  turned 
with  a  sense  of  relief  to  her  companion  who  was 
being  introduced  as  Miss  Wade. 


The  Threshold  of  Fame  237 

"  Isn't  she  pretty  ?  "  Betty  found  &  chance  to 
whisper  as  they  went  into  a  tiny,  inner  room,  and 
removed  their  wraps.  "  She  makes  me  think  of  a 
little  blonde  bisque  dolL  I  always  expect  to  hear 
the  joints  squeak,  or  else  hear  her  say  mamma 
and  papa.  Come  on,  so  we  can  see  everybody.  I 
want  to  get  a  front  bench  at  the  circus  so  I  can 
see  all  three  rings  at  once. " 

They  found  a  cosy  seat,  banked  higher  with 
cushions,  where  after  awhile  Miss  Ogden  joined 
them,  as  the  room  began  to  fill  up  with  new- 
comers. 

"  You  must  tell  us  all  the  famous  ones,"  Betty 
insisted,  "  because  this  is  our  very  first  taste,  you 
know,  and  we  want  to  know  when  we  see  a  lion. 
There's  a  man  over  there.  The  tall  man  with  the 
bushy  hair  talking  to  Miss  Wade.  Is  he  a 
lion?" 

Miss  Ogden  laughed. 

"  Dear  me,  no,  but  he's  the  keeper  of  quite  a 
menagerie.  That's  Benson  of  the  Argonaut,  and 
you  may  walk  on  your  tiptoes  and  roar  for  a 
week  if  you  get  an  article  in  the  Argonaut. 
There  are  not  many  real  lions,  Betty.  The  higher 
game  leaves  the  jungle  out  West  here  as  soon  as  it 
discovers  it  is  worth  being  hunted,  and  takes  to 
the  mountains  of  New  York.  But  there  is  plenty 
of  loyal  comradeship,  all  the  same,  only  it  seems 


238  Rook's  Nest 

as  if  we  were  all  a  lot  of  students  together,  living 
on  hopes  and  ambitions.  There  are  so  few  great 
reputations  really  won  and  established  here  in 
Chicago.  We  have  have  lots  of  budding  geniuses, 
lots  of  the  true  metal  too,  but  no  masters.  Per- 
sonalities count  for  more  than  actual  reputations 
among  us.  Now  that  dear,  little  blue-eyed  woman 
over  there  with  the  crowd  around  her.  She  only 
writes  half  column  sketches  for  the  Journal,  but 
she  is  loved  and  admired  for  her  own  self  more 
than  if  she  had  taken  a  Salon  medal." 

"  Listen,"  said  Betty,  "  some  one  is  singing  at 
the  piano.  That  girl  in  red  it  is.  I  think  she  has 
started  one  of  Eugene  Field's  songs." 

In  the  lull  of  conversation  that  followed  the 
prelude  of  the  song,  Avis'  attention  was  suddenly 
attracted  by  a  stranger  who  had  entered  quietly, 
and  slipped  into  a  seat  near  the  piano,  after  inter- 
changing a  smile  of  recognition  with  Miss  Wade, 
and  the  Argonaut  editor.  She  could  not  see 
his  face,  but  there  was  something  strikingly 
familiar  about  the  broad  shoulders,  and  erect  dark 
head.  All  at  once  a  double  longing  came  over 
her,  first  to  disappear  so  that  if  her  suspicion 
was  correct  she  could  avoid  a  meeting  at  all 
hazards,  and  second  to  see  and  to  speak  with  him, 
if  it  was  indeed  Rob.  The  tears  rose  suddenly 
to  her  eyes,  and  the  homesick  lump,  as  Betty 


The  Threshold  of  Fame  239 

called  it,  filled  her  throat  She  wished  that  the 
k'iil  in  red  at  the  piano  would  not  sing  such  a 
plaintive,  sad  little  song.  It  was  enough  to  make 
any  one  cry.  But  the  voice  went  on,  and  the  low, 
sweet  music  filled  the  room,  and  under  its  spell 
the  whole  studio  faded  away,  and  in  its  place,  like 
some  far  off  beautiful  mirage,  was  Rook's  Nest,  tum- 
ble down  and  quaint  among  the  tall  lilacs,  nodding 
protectingly  around,  and  there  were  faces  at  the 
windows,  anxious,  loving  faces  from  Muggins 
down  to  the  Lion,  all  watching  the  road  that  led 
to  the  ravine  for  the  return  of  the  runaway. 

The  music  stopped  with  a  low,  tremulous  chord, 
and  before  it  had  died  away  Avis  raised  her  head, 
and  met  the  gaze  of  Bed  Hover  fixed  steadily 
upon  her. 


CHAPTER  XVn 

1  The  Cellar  Spook 

IT  was  after  supper  at  Rook's  Nest.  Dora  and 
Winnie  were  wrestling  with  the  dishes  out  in  the 
kitchen,  and  now  and  then  came  the  sound  of  a 
dull  thud  as  Billie  dropped  an  armful  of  wood  be- 
hind the  cook  stove. 

"  Bring  in  plenty,  Billie,"  Marjorie  called  from 
the  sitting-room.  "  Frost  to-night." 

Uncle  Cherrington's  easy  chair  had  been  through 
a  rejuvenating  process,  thanks  to  Billie's  deft  tack- 
ing, and  now  stood  in  the  place  of  honor  before 
the  open  grate.  It  was  reserved  exclusively  for 
Uncle  Harvey's  comfort,  but  at  present  the  Lion 
lay  curled  up  in  its  depths  like  a  kitten,  while  Mr. 
Newell  paced  to  and  fro  the  full  length  of  the  room 
and  back  to  Marjorie's  sewing-table.  They  had 
been  talking  seriously,  at  least  Mr.  Newell  had, 
and  Marjorie's  face  was  very  thoughtful  as  she 
bent  over  the  pile  of  stockings  in  her  lap  and 
worked  out  the  puzzle  of  assorted  sizes. 

"  You  can't  go  on  living  like  this,"  Mr.  Newell 
was  saying,  gently,  but  firmly.  "  Billie  is  fourteen 
240 


The  Cellar  Spook  241 

and  must  be  sent  to  school  I  will  invest  what 
would  have  been  your  mother's  share  of  the  money 
and  property  of  the  Newell  estate  for  all  of  you, 
and  you  can  live  on  the  interest  very  comfortably, 
but  surely  not  here,  Marjorie,  my  dear.  Not  in 
this  old  rickety  place,  when  I  wish  you  to  return 
East  with  me  and  help  to  make  my  great,  lonely 
home  bright  and  happy." 

"But,  Uncle  Harvey,  you  don't  understand," 
Marjorie  protested.  "  This  is  all  my  own,  and  I 
love  it  so.  I  can't  bear  to  leave  it  all  behind. 
And  truly,  I  can  manage  splendidly,  as  you  say, 
on  the  interest  of  the  money,  and  even  if  Billie 
was  to  go  to  college,  I  could  stay  here  with  the 
menagerie." 

"  It  is  of  them  you  must  think  most,"  interposed 
Mr.  NewelL  "The  burden  is  too  much  for  a 
young  girl  like  you  to  bear.  I  shall  stay  here  a 
while,  at  all  events,  so  you  need  not  begin  to 
worry  so  soon."  He  came  across  the  room  to  the 
armchair,  and  leaning  over  the  back,  looked  down 
at  the  Lion,  cuddled  there  in  his  white  nightgown, 
fast  asleep  before  the  fire,  and  a  tender,  softened 
light  shone  in  his  eyes,  as  he  added,  "  It  would  be 
very  hard  for  me  to  leave  you  all  now,  and  to 
go  back  alone  I  did  not  know  how  lonesome 
and  self-centered  my  old  life  was  until  I  entered 
Book's  Nest" 


242  Rook's  Nest 

Marjorie  was  silent.  She  did  not  feel  as  though 
she  could  make  any  reply  to  his  proposition  until 
she  had  consulted  Billie.  Since  Avis'  departure, 
he  had  become  her  chief  counselor,  and  grand 
vizier  on  all  questions  relating  to  the  welfare  of 
the  kingdom  of  Kattletibang.  She  was  very 
silent  and  quiet,  therefore,  until  Mr.  Newell  took 
his  lamp  from  the  table,  and  bent  over  her  to  say 
good-night. 

"  Don't  worry,  little  girl,"  h€>  said,  kindly,  strok- 
ing the  tanglo  of  brown  curls  that  would  break 
away  from  the  restraining  hairpins  which  she  had 
donned  at  Billie's  earnest  behest.  "Do  what 
you  think  your  mother  would  have  wished.  I 
have  considerable  business  on  hand  to-night, 
and  papers  to  glance  over,  and  letters  to  write. 
I  may  remain  over  in  Chicago  for  a  week  or 
more." 

In  an  instant  Marjorie's  face  was  radiant  with 
hope  and  interest.  She  had  almost  forgotten  the 
trip  her  uncle  had  been  planning. 

"  Oh,  Uncle  Harvey,"  she  exclaimed,  dropping 
stockings,  darning  ball,  thimble,  and  all,  in  a  heap 
on  the  floor.  "  Couldn't  you  try  to  see  her — Avis,  I 
mean,  just  to  be  sure  she  is  all  right,  and — and 
not  in  need  of  anything  ?  I  would  give  anything 
to  know.  With  Christmas  coming  on,  just  think 
of  all  of  us  happy  and  comfortable,  and  perhaps 


The  Cellar  Spook  243 

she  only  writes  that  she  has  plenty  so  as  not  to 
bother  me.  She  is  very  proud." 

Mr.  Newell  smiled. 

"  I  will  try  to  bring  back  good  news  of  her,"  he 
replied.  "I  will  look  her  up  anyway,  while  I 
am  there.  Billie,  boy,  bring  a  good-sized  log  for 
the  fire  here.  It  is  too  low  for  the  Lion  to  sleep 
by." 

He  bent  over  and  kissed  Reggie's  rosy  cheek, 
and  called  good-night  to  the  others  as  ho  crossed 
the  entry  to  the  four-poster  room  which  had  been 
turned  over  to  him  entirely. 

Billie  came  in  whistling  softly,  the  big  log  on 
his  shoulder,  and  little,  brown  chips  of  bark  cling- 
ing to  his  jacket,  and  even  in  his  hair.  The  fire 
sprang  up,  and  gave  the  new  log  a  warm  welcome. 
After  a  few  pokes  at  it,  Billie  settled  himself  full 
length  on  the  floor,  and  looked  up  at  Marjorie. 

"  You  and  Avis  always  look  at  the  fire  as  if  you 
saw  things,"  he  said,  at  last  "Hobgoblins  or 
something.  What  is  it  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,"  Marjorie  raised  her  head, 
smilingly.  "  I  was  only  thinking  of  Avis.  Uncle 
Harvey  says  he  will  look  her  up  next  week  when 
he  goes  to  Chicago." 

"  And  precious  little  thanks  he'll  get  from  her 
royal  highness  if  he  does,"  quoth  William,  sagely. 
"  I've  got  an  idea  that  she  and  Betty  get  along 


244  Rook's  Nest 

great  together.  I  like  tliat  Betty,  She's  a  brick. 
She'll  brace  Avis  up,  bet  a  cookie,  and  teach,  her 
the  stroke.  If  I  were  Uncle  Harvey —  What's 
the  matter  ?  " 

He  turned  sharply  at  the  sound  of  feet,  tip-toe- 
ing along  the  entry  way  from  the  kitchen. 

"  Sh !  "  whispered  Dora,  warningly,  as  she  and 
the  Owl  made  a  stealthy  entrance.  "It's  there 
again.  Eight  in  the  same  place." 

Marjorie's  eyes  met  Billie's  in  an  anxious  flash 
of  comprehension,  and  she  rose  resolutely. 

"It's  only  the  wind,"  she  said,  firmly,  taking 
the  light  in  one  hand,  while  the  rest  clustered 
closely  about  her"  as  she  started  for  the  kitchen. 

"  The  wind,  only  the  wind,"  echoed  Billie,  sol- 
emnly. "It's  Hansel  and  Gretel  eating  our  gin- 
gerbread house  up.  Wouldn't  her  royal  highness 
have  seventeen  fits  if  she  were  here  now,  and 
could  track  the  ghost  to  its  hidden  lair !  " 

"Billie,  be  quiet,"  said  Marjorie,  in  an  under- 
tone. "I  want  to  listen.  Dora,  dear,  you  and 
Winnie  run  back  to  Reggie,  please." 

"  I  want  to  stay  with  you  and  Billie,"  returned 
the  Lamb,  rebelliously ;  but  the  Owl,  after  a  fear- 
ful glance  over  her  shoulder,  fled  back  to  the  shel- 
ter of  the  sitting-room,  and  nestled  down  beside 
Beggie,  her  big,  blue  eyes  wide  with  wonder,  her 
ears  strained  to  catch  every  sound. 


The  Cellar  Spook  245 

"It's  over  there,"  Dora  said,  pointing  to  a  dim 
corner  near  the  pantry  door,  and  Marjorie  deliber- 
ately set  the  lamp  down,  and  went  over  to  the 
place  designated.  Then  they  all  held  their 
breaths  and  listened. 

There  certainly  was  a  mystery  in  the  heart  of 
Book's  Nest.  In  the  silence  of  the  old  kitchen 
they  could  hear  distinctly  the  strange  indefinable 
sound,  but  whether  it  came  from  floor,  walls  or 
ceiling,  it  was  impossible  to  say.  It  was  not  a 
knock,  nor  a  whistle  of  wind.  It  was  more  like 
the  muffled  sound  of  guns,  like  the  dull,  faint  boom 
of  cannon  miles  and  miles  away. 

It  was  not  the  first  time  they  had  heard  it. 
Every  night  for  several  weeks  past  it  had  sounded 
in  the  same  spot  in  the  kitchen,  and  during  the 
daytime,  as  Marjorie  went  about  doing  her  work, 
she  sometimes  fancied  she  could  hear  the  queer, 
hollow,  faraway  sound. 

Uncle  Harvey  had  heard  it,  and  laughed  in  his 
amused,  doubting  way. 

"  Wind  or  rats,"  he  would  say,  shaking  his  head, 
laughingly,  at  the  troubled  faces.  "Either  a  hole 
in  this  Book's  Nest  of  ramshackle  boards  forms  a 
trumpet  for  the  wind  to  blow  through,  or  else  it  is 
the  Enchanted  Goblin  turned  loose.  Marjorie, 
you're  growing  nervous  in  your  old  age." 

Marjorie  would  join  in  his  laugh,  but  still  havQ 


246  Rook's  Nest 

the  same  wonder  in  her  heart  as  to  what  the 
strange  noise  could  be. 

To-night  after  a  prolonged  stare  at  the  corner, 
Billie  suddenly  mounted  a  chair,  and  held  one  ear 
to  the  wall. 

"  It  isn't  there,"  he  said.  "  And  there  isn't  a  sign 
of  an  attic  overhead.  Spooks  like  attics.  Maybe 
they  dance  jigs  on  the  roof  in  the  moonlight." 

"Don't  be  funny.  Try  the  floor,"  answered 
Marjorie,  severely. 

But  Billie  was  already  on  the  floor,  one  ear  laid 
close  to  the  cracks  of  the  trap-door  which  led  to 
the  little  cellar  under  the  kitchen. 

"  Sh ! "  ho  whispered.  "  I've  got  the  spook. 
He's  down  with  the  turnips,  bet  a  cookie." 

In  a  moment  all  three  were  listening  at  the 
cracks,  and  Marjorie  gave  a  startled  gasp. 

"Why,  it  is  down  there,  Billie." 

"  'Course,  it  is,"  retorted  Billie,  serenely.  "  I 
knew  it  all  the  time.  I'm  going  down.  You  hold 
the  light,  Muggins." 

"  Wait  till  I  call  Uncle  Harvey,"  said  the  latter, 
but  Billie  waxed  indignant. 

"  Don't  you  dare,"  he  commanded,  sternly.  "  I'll 
manage  this  my  own  self.  Give  me  that  poker. 
There !  Charge  Chester,  charge,  on  Stanley,  on ! 
Muggins,  for  pity's  sake  don't  let  that  trap-door  fall 
on  my  topknot,  and  please  hold  the  light  low." 


The  Cellar  Spook  247 

"I'm  coming  after  you,"  said  Marjorie,  gath- 
ering up  her  skirts  in  one  hand.  "Dora,  you 
attend  to  the  door,  and  don't  get  frightened, 
mind." 

"Whose  'fraid,"  returned  the  valiant  Lamb, 
stoutly,  although  her  heart  beat  fast,  as  Billie  cau- 
tiously raised  the  door,  and  took  a  preliminary 
peep  into  the  dark  depths  below. 

"  Come  on,"  he  whispered,  grasping  the  poker 
firmly,  and  together  the  two  went  slowly,  step  by 
step,  down  the  steep  but  short  flight  of  wooden 
stairs  that  led  to  the  small  cellar.  At  the  bottom 
they  paused,  and  Marjorie  held  the  lamp  above  her 
head,  so  as  to  let  its  light  shine  full  on  the  whole 
place.  It  was  a  mere  excuse  for  a  cellar,  just  such 
a  cobwebby  cubbyhole  as  one  would  expect  to  find 
under  Rook's  Nest  When  harvest  time  had  come, 
Billie  had  made  an  effort  to  clear  out  some  of  its 
rubbish  and  dust,  and  the  floor,  which  was  plain 
earth,  had  been  swept  and  smoothed  over,  and 
some  planking  laid  in  the  corners  to  accommodate 
the  winter  store  of  vegetables.  The  latter  was  all 
the  cellar  contained,  unless  one  took  into  account 
the  strange,  shapeless  pile  underneath  the  chairs. 
Since  cold  weather  had  rendered  indoor  existence 
a  necessity,  Billie  and  the  menagerie  had  found 
considerable  trouble  in  disposing  of  their  cumber- 
some treasures. 


248  Rook's  Nest 

"  There  are  whole  stacks  of  things,"  Billie  ex- 
plained, loftily,  to  the  indignant  princess  of  the 
realm,  "  that  you  have  to  keep  somewhere  because 
they  may  come  in  handy  some  day.  What  would 
you  have  done  the  day  the  leg  came  off  the  stove 
if  I  hadn't  saved  up  all  those  old  bricks  ?  Where ' 
would  your  old  kettle  have  been  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  that  silver  hatpin  Avis  threw  away,  and  I  melted 
up  for  the  hole  in  the  spout?  How  about  your 
old  tub  when  it  went  to  pieces,  if  I  hadn't  dropped 
those  iron  hoops  into  the  cellar?  What  would 
you  have  done  for  a  china  closet  if  I  hadn't  kept 
those  soap  boxes  you  wanted  to  use  for  kindling 
wood?  No,  sir-ree.  If  anybody  finds  anything 
and  doesn't  know  what  it's  good  for,  just  let  them 
drop  it  down  under  the  cellar  stairs  until  we  find 
out  we  need  it  Like  to  know  what  a  lot  of  girls 
would  do,  anyway,  trying  to  keep  house  without  a 
man  around." 

Now  that  the  cellar  had  become  a  place  of  mys- 
tery, Billie's  interest,  after  wandering  from  pota- 
toes to  turnips  and  cabbages,  centered  on  the  pile 
under  the  stairs. 

"I  don't  hear  it  now,"  said  Marjorie,  in  a  whis- 
per, but  Billie  rounded  the  corner  of  the  stairs, 
cautiously,  and  bent  over  the  pile  with  poker  up- 
raised in  one  hand  as  if  he  expected  to  harpoon  an 
escaped  whale.  All  at  once,  even  as  they  stood 


The  Cellar  Spook  249 

waiting,  there  came  the  strange  noise  directly  be- 
neath the  heap  of  odds  and  ends,  as  though  it 
came  from  the  bowels  of  tho  earth. 

"  Can  you  poke  it,  Billie  ?  "  asked  the  Lamb,  anx- 
iously, her  head  appearing  over  the  edge  of  the 
kitchen  floor,  above,  and  wagging  at  them  with 
alarming  looseness.  "Shall  I  throw  down  the 
broom  ?  " 

"  Go  back.  You  look  as  if  you  were  beheaded," 
ordered  Billie.  "  No,  you  needn't  throw  down  the 
broom,  or  the  clock,  or  anything  else.  Just  keep 
still.  Hold  the  light  low,  Muggins,  while  I  dig  a 
little." 

"  Under  those  boxes,  Billie,"  said  Marjorie,  her 
face  flushed  with  excitement,  as  she  pointed  to  the 
spot  where  the  noise  seemed  to  come  from.  "  Clear 
those  away  first." 

Billie  promptly  proceeded  with  all  diligence  and 
caution  to  push  aside  the  medley  of  tin  pans,  soap 
boxes,  and  different  things,  until  he  had  cleared 
away  a  space  of  several  feet,  and  revealed  the  bare 
earth  beneath.  The  noise  ceased  for  a  moment, 
then  recommenced,  a  faint,  dull,  indescribable 
sound,  that  came  from  the  ground  itself. 

Marjorie  looked  at  Billie  in  consternation. 

"  What  do  you  suppose  it  is  ?  "  she  exclaimed. 
"A  volcano?" 

"Maybe,"  replied  Billie,  staring  solemnly  at  tho 


250  Rook's  Nest 

ground.  "It  sounds  as  if  it  could  blow  up  if  it 
wanted  to.  Now  it's  gone  again." 

This  time  the  noise  did  not  return,  and  after 
waiting  for  awhile  in  vain,  the  two  explorers  gave 
up  the  quest,  and  went  up  to  the  kitchen  with 
grave  faces.  Marjorie  set  the  lamp  down  on  the 
table,  and  met  Billie's  gaze  with  her  eyes  full  of 
questioning  concern. 

"It  would  frighten  Winnie  and  the  Lion  if  they 
knew,"  she  said  at  last.  "  Don't  tell  a  word  about 
it,  Dora." 

"  And  don't  tell  Uncle  Harvey,  either,"  rejoined 
Billie,  firmly.  "  Let's  wait  till  he's  gone,  and  then 
dig." 

So  with  this  resolution  the  matter  was  let  rest. 
There  was  a  heavy  snowfall  that  night,  and  strange 
to  say,  the  mysterious  sound  was  not  heard  again 
for  several  days,  whereupon  Billie  and  the  Lamb 
pondered,  and  puzzled,  and  went  about  as  if 
weighed  down  by  the  state  secrets  of  a  nation. 
But  Marjorie  was  too  much  absorbed  in  Mr.  New- 
ell's  departure  for  Chicago  to  think  of  anything 
except  that  he  would  find  Avis,  and  bring  back 
definite  news  of  her.  They  all  went  to  the  depot 
to  see  him  off,  and  the  parting  was  as  affecting,  so 
far  as  the  menagerie  was  concerned,  as  if  he  had 
been  going  to  the  South  Sea  Islands. 

"Don't  forget  your  promise,"  were  Marjorie's 


The  Cellar  Spook  251 

last  words,  but  they  were  lost  under  a  deluge  of 
desires  from  the  menagerie,  called  recklessly  after 
the  moving  train. 

Billie  was  the  only  one  who  stood  aloof.  When 
the  train  had  disappeared  behind  the  line  of  trees 
in  the  distance,  he  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief,  and 
smiled  wisely. 

"Now,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "we  will 
return  to  our  wigwam,  and  hold  a  solemn  pow 
wow." 

"  Danthing,  Billie  ?  "  cried  the  Lion,  suiting  the 
action  to  the  word,  by  capering  joyously  around 
the  platform,  at  the  imminent  risk  of  breaking  his 
neck  on  the  rails  below. 

"No,"  replied  Billie,  with  a  gleam  of  anticipa- 
tion in  his  eyes.  "Digging." 


CHAPTER  XVffl 
In  the  Fourth  Floor  Back 

"  Miss  OGDEN,  do  you  know  that  girl  in  red  ?  " 
Betty  exclaimed,  warmly,  as  the  music  ceased.  "I 
think  she  must  be  splendid,  or  she  could  never 
sing  like  that.  See,  every  one  is  crowding  around 
her.  Can't  you  introduce  us,  too  ?  " 

Miss  Ogden  readily  assented ;  but  Avis  pleaded 
her  preference  for  her  corner,  and  they  left  her 
alone.  The  next  moment  Hob  had  crossed  the 
room  eagerly,  and  taken  the  vacant  seat  beside 
her,  his  brown  eyes  full  of  gladness. 

"  How  on  earth  did  you  happen  here  ?  "  he  asked, 
and  she  noticed  that  his  old  shyness  was  gone,  so 
far  as  she  was  concerned.  "  I  hardly  knew  you  at 
first,  with  your  hair  twisted  up  that  way,  and  you 
look  as  if  you  were  used  to  it  all." 

"But,  I'm  not,"  she  answered,  laughingly.  "It 
is  my  first  real  good  time,  and  I  don't  feel  a  bit 
used  to  it.  It  makes  me  wish  I  had  done  some- 
thing wonderful,  and  that  everybody  knew  me  or 
wanted  to  know  me,  don't  you  know  ?  I  feel  out 
in  the  cold." 

252 


In  the  Fourth  Floor  Back          253 

"So  do  I,  a  little,"  said  Kob.  "I  only  know 
Miss  Wade  and  Mr.  Benson.  He  looks  fierce,  but 
he  is  not,  not  a  bit.  He  gave  me  my  first  lift  in 
pen  and  ink  work  a  month  ago.  Nothing  special. 
Only  a  little  odd  bit  now  and  then  to  illustrate  in 
the  Argonaut,  but  he  thinks  he  can  get  me  on  the 
Times-Herald  this  month,  and  then  I  shall  feel  as 
if  my  fortune  was  made  already.  What  are  you 
doing  in  Chicago,  Avis  ?  " 

Avis  flushed,  and  a  wave  of  the  old  pride  swept 
over  her.  How  could  she  tell  Bob  Rogers  of  the 
fourth  floor  back  room,  and  all  the  petty  priva- 
tions that  were  stealing  down  on  her,  and  the  al- 
most hopeless  collapse  of  her  air  bubble  of  suc- 
cess. 

"  Still  writing,"  she  replied,  with  an  attempt  at 
carelessness.  "  It  is  pretty  slow  work — fighting, 
isn't  it  ?  Everything  looks  so  different  seen  from 
a  distance." 

"I  know,  from  East  Elmore."  Rob  was  silent 
for  a  moment  Some  one  was  going  to  recite,  and 
he  leaned  back  among  the  cushions  and  listened, 
with  his  thoughts  flying  like  birds  to  Rook's  Nest, 
;m<!  Marjorie.  What  ought  he  to  say  to  Avis,  now 
tluit  he  had  found  her  by  .accident?  Marjorie,  in 
spite  of  Avis'  request  to  the  contrary,  had  written 
a  fervent  appeal  to  Rob  in  this  wise : 

"  If  you  do  find  her,  Rob,  look  after  her  for  me. 


254  Rook's  Nest 

Find  out  if  she  has  plenty,  and  is  comfortable. 
Ask  her  if  she  is  happy,  and  if  she  misses  us  or 
not.  And  whatever  you  do,  don't  lose  track  of  her 
after  you  have  found  her.  If  I  thought  she  were 
in  need,  I  would  send  her  a  barrel  of  things,  and 
then  come  on  top  of  them  myself." 

Bob  looked  at  Avis'  clear  cut  profile  to-night,  as 
she  turned  her  head  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
speaker's  face,  and  wondered  how  he  could  ask  her 
point  blank  if  she  were  in  need,  for  there  was  an 
older,  more  independent  look  in  her  eyes,  and  the 
small,  firm  mouth  was  closed  more  resolutely  than 
ever. 

"  Where  are  you  living  ?  "  he  asked  at  last,  when 
the  monologist  had  finished,  and  the  hum  of  voices 
rose  again  on  all  sides.  "  I  am  on  the  South  Side. 
Hall  bed-room,  and  a  fifteen  cent  restaurant  around 
the  corner.  Don't  you  ever  think  you'd  give  your 
little  finger  nail  for  a  good  square  meal  at  home  ? 
I  do.  Billie  writes  often  to  me,  and  I  have  not 
got  over  the  homesick  feeling  yet.  Have  you, 
Avis?" 

Avis  sat  with  downcast  eyes,  her  hands  clasped 
closely  together,  her  one  great  longing  that  she 
would  not  break  down  and  cry  then  and  there ;  but 
all  at  once  Betty's  merry,  brisk  voice  broke  the 
awkward  pause,  and  she  welcomed  her  eagerly. 

"  Bob  Bogers  ?  "  repeated  Betty,  with  her  frank, 


In  the  Fourth  Floor  Back          255 

bright  smile,  as  she  took  in  the  stranger's  general 
appearance  with  one  quick  glance  of  her  brown 
eyes.  "  I've  known  you  ever  so  long,  and  you  look 
even  better  than  I  expected  you  would,  from  what 
Avis  told  me." 

"  I  don't  think  I  would  like  to  hear  her  unbiased 
opinion  of  me,"  answered  Bob,  with  a  laugh  that 
covered  the  underlying  embarrassment  of  his  tone. 
"  We  were  never  very  good  friends." 

"No,"  returned  Betty,  in  a  burst  of  confidence, 
that  made  Avis  long  to  shake  her,  or  throw  the 
cushions  at  her  in  a  fit  of  desperation,  that  would 
have  done  credit  to  the  Lamb.  "  She  doesn't  ap- 
prove of  you,  exactly ;  but  still  your  coming  to  the 
city,  you  know,  has  made  you  a  little  more  inter- 
esting. But  one  can  never  tell.  You  may  be  like 
the  man  with  the  bushy  hair  some  day,  and  Avis 
and  I  will  be  still  pegging  along  " 

"  Betty,"  exclaimed  Avis,  suddenly,  "  Miss  Ogden 
is  trying  to  catch  your  eye.  She  wants  to  tell  you 
something,"  and  she  arose  to  accompany  Betty. 

"  When  will  I  see  you  again  ?  "  asked  Bob,  ris- 
ing also  and  looking  down  on  her  with  a  twinkle 
of  amusement  in  his  eyes  that  sent  the  last  friendly 
impulse  toward  him  from  her  heart. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  answered,  briefly.  "  I  am 
very  busy,  and  have  no  time  to  spare,  and  suppose 
it  is  the  same  with  you." 


256  Rook's  Nest 

"  I  always  go  the  rounds  of  the  art  galleries  and 
Institute  on  Saturdays,"  said  Bob,  quickly,  forget- 
ting all  save  Marjorie's  injunction  not  to  lose  track 
of  her  royal  highness.  "  It  doesn't  cost  anything, 
and  it  keeps  a  fellow  in  line  somehow.  Wouldn't 
you  like  that?" 

"  No  " — began  Avis,  but  Betty  glanced  over  her 
shoulder,  with  a  friendly  nod. 

"  They're  great,"  she  said.  "  We  always  do  them 
Wednesdays.  Good-night." 

Miss  Ogden  was  waiting  for  them  in  the  oriental 
corner,  and  there  was  a  troubled  look  in  her  kindly 
grey  eyes  that  bothered  Betty  at  once. 

"Anything  I've  done?"  was  her  first  anxious 
query. 

**  Oh,  no,  no,  girlie,  of  course  not,"  answered  the 
other.  "  Only  I've  something  to  tell  you  that  is 
very  unpleasant." 

"  I  know  it  isn't  becoming,"  Betty  interposed,  in 
a  tragic  whisper,  as  she  gave  her  high  collar  a  tug. 
"  And  I  feel  as  if  I  were  being  guillotined  by  slow 
degrees,  but  it's  the  style,  and  I  can't  help  it.  You 
ought  to  sympathize  and  not  pounce  on  me  like 
this  to  scold." 

But  Miss  Ogden  only  shook  her  head  a  trifle 
sadly. 

"  It  isn't  a  joke,  Betty,  it's  business.  I  am  com- 
ing back  to  the  American  Beauty  next  week." 


In  the  Fourth  Floor  Back          257 

"As  editor?"  The  smile  died  away  from 
Betty's  face  in  an  instant,  as  she  asked  the  ques- 
tion. 

"  Yes,  they  have  decided  to  give  np  the  syndi- 
cate service,  and  go  back  to  the  old  way.  The 
publisher  from  the  East  is  coming  on  Monday  to 
discuss  the  change  and  make  arrangements." 

"  Well,  will  I  be  needed  then?  "  There  was  not 
a  tremor  in  the  steady,  resolute  voice,  although 
Betty  knew  all  that  hung  on  the  answer. 

"  I  hardly  know,"  answered  Miss  Ogden,  reluc- 
tantly, laying  her  arm  around  Betty's  shoulders. 
"  That  will  be  decided  next  week.  I  hope  so,  and 
I  will  do  my  best  for  you.  I  am  more  sorry  than 
I  can  say,  Betty.  Why  don't  you  try  the  news- 
papers ?  " 

Betty  shook  her  head  bravely. 

"  Don't  bother  about  me.  I  always  find  a  way 
somehow."  Then  a  sudden  gleam  of  hope  flashed 
across  her.  "If  you  give  up  the  syndicate  you 
will  go  back  to  the  old  writers,  won't  you  ?  Well, 
then,  why  can't  you  look  at  Avis'  new  story,  and 
see  if  you  can't  use  it  ?  " 

Miss  Wade  was  coming  toward  them,  and  Miss 
Ogden  barely  had  time  to  assent,  before  she 
had  to  accompany  their  hostess  over  to  another 
group. 

"It  can't  be  helped,"  Betty  said,  choking  back 


258  Rook's  Nest 

a  sigli.  "  But  we'll  have  to  live  on  liope  &nd  gin- 
gersnaps  unless  something  turns  up." 

"  What  if  she  accepts  my  story  ?  "  asked  Avis, 
hopefully. 

"  Then  we  will  live  on  chocolate  creams  and 
salted  peanuts,  and  go  to  the  theatre  once  again, 
and  buy  Madame  a  new  pair  of  white  gloves. 
She  says  she  can  stand  anything  in  life's  adver- 
sities, except  having  her  white  gloves  give  up  the 
ghost.  'It  is  not  zat  zey  are  so  grand,  Bettee. 
It  is  zat  zey  are  so  much  ze  gen-teel.'  That  is 
what  she  says,  and  I  understand,  but  the  great 
point  is  this,  Avis,  my  child,"  and  Betty  thought- 
fully accepted,  as  she  spoke,  a  glass  of  lemon  ice 
from  Miss  Ogden's  hands,  when  the  latter  passed 
them,  laden  with  ices.  "  What  if  she  does  not  ac- 
cept it,  then  we  will  have  to  catch  the  first  soap 
box  we  see,  turn  it  into  a  hand  car,  and  work  our 
way  to  Rook's  Nest,  and  Muggins.  Otherwise  we 
won't  eat  turkey  for  Christmas,  that's  all." 

It  was  a  dubious  ending  to  the  evening's  pleas- 
ure. Although  Betty  tried  to  keep  up  a  brave 
heart,  and  laugh  over  the  loss  of  her  position,  the 
smile  would  vanish  from  her  face  every  now  and 
then,  and  Avis  would  see  the  puzzled,  worried 
shadow  in  its  stead. 

Mr.  Benson  had  taken  Bob  in  tow,  and  they  did 
not  have  any  further  chance  of  speaking  with  him, 


In  the  Fourth  Floor  Back          259 

much  to  Avis'  secret  relief ;  but  when  they  were 
once  more  in  the  street  car,  homeward  bound, 
Betty  suddenly  exclaimed  after  a  long  pause  : 

"  Why  don't  you  like  that  Rogers  boy  ?  I  think 
ho  is  splendid." 

Avis  was  startled  into  what  Billie  would  have 
called  her  clam-shell  state  of  pride.  She  simply 
shut  herself  up  in  a  shell  of  reticence  and  re- 
sentment, and  refused  to  hold  communication 
with  ordinary  people,  who  failed  to  see  sense 
in  her  fancies.  But  Betty  was  not  one  to  be 
shut  out. 

"Oh,  you  needn't  freeze  up,  Avis,  and  look 
so  cross.  He  is  a  splendid  boy,  and  you  treated 
him  qucerly,  and  I  want  to  know  what  the 
trouble  is.  You  never  said  much  of  anything 
about  him,  at  all,  not  even  that  he  was  in  Chicago. 
Why?" 

Avis  looked  at  the  frank  brown  eyes,  that 
seemed  to  see  through  and  through  her,  and  re- 
membering Marjorie's  eyes,  so  like  them,  felt  her- 
self thawing  helplessly  under  their  direct  ques- 
tioning. 

"  Why,  because  I  don't  like  him,"  she  answered, 
positively. 

"But  why  don't  you? " 

"  I  don't  know.  Oh,  yes,  I  do,  too,"  as  a  flash 
of  memory  came  to  her.  "Billie  said  once  that 


260  Rook's  Nest 

Rob  thought  I  was — silly."  She  jerked  out  the 
hated  word,  with  an  effort,  that  brought  a  half 
sob  with  it,  and  Betty  nodded  in  wise  compre- 
hension. 

"  I  see.  You  think  he  is  fine,  just  as  I  do,  but 
you  like  him  so  much,  and  think  he  is  so  splendid, 
that  you  can't  bear  to  have  such  a  nice  boy  think 
you're  silly.  Is  that  it  ?  " 

"No,  it  is  not,"  said  Avis,  indignantly,  her 
cheeks  flushing  suddenly  with  anger,  and  hurt 
self  pride.  "  He  thinks  my  ambition  is  silly,  my 
work  silly,  everything  I  say,  or  do,  silly !  He 
thinks  there  is  no  one  like  Muggins,  and  that  she's 
a  martyr,  and  I'm  a  deserter !  Now,  don't  you  see 
why  I  don't  like  him  ?  " 

"  I  wonder  if  it  wouldn't  be  best  for  us  to  move 
into  the  hall  bed-room,  at  one  dollar  per  week," 
remarked  Betty,  serenely,  and  the  subject  was 
dropped  without  another  word. 

Then  began  several  weeks  of  battle.  "When 
Betty  went  down  to  the  office  of  the  American 
Beauty  on  Monday,  she  found  Miss  Ogden  in- 
stalled in  her  old  place  at  the  big  red  editorial 
desk,  and  only  a  prospect  of  about  ten  days'  work 
left  for  her,  while  the  new  editor  needed  an  as- 
sistant in  making  a  change  from  syndicate  service 
back  to  the  old  way  of  dealing  directly  with  the 
writers.  She  noticed  an  air  of  unwonted  bustle 


In  the  Fourth  Floor  Back          261 

and  preparation  about  the  place,  and  Miss  Ogden 
said  the  manager  and  publisher  was  expected  from 
New  York  any  day. 

At  the  home  on  Dearborn  Aveuue,  matters  went 
from  bad  to  worse.  Madame  Penionte  was  inter- 
viewed on  the  gravity  of  the  situation,  but  she 
vowed  that  if  they  dared  give  up  their  large  back 
room  for  the  cheaper  hall  bed-room,  she  would 
grow  grey  in  despair,  and  Betty  must  pay  her  but 
one  dollar  for  rent  of  the  big  room.  So  they  kept 
their  old  room,  and  the  precious  story  of  "Lor- 
raine's Legacy,"  which  had  come  back  from  a 
local  publisher,  express  collect,  was  at  once  con- 
signed to  Miss  Ogden's  tender  mercies. 

As  soon  as  her  ten  days'  work  was  finished  at 
the  Beauty  office,  Betty  began  to  take  a  deep  inter- 
est in  the  "  want  ads  "  of  tho  various  papers. 

"  You  mind  your  own  affairs,  Avis,"  she  would 
say,  blithely,  "  and  let  me  manage  the  work  part 
I  can  find  something  to  do." 

But  after  a  day  or  so,  Avis  laid  aside  her  pen 
and  paper,  and  started  out  alone  to  find  some 
work.  She  had  several  "  ads  "  to  answer,  for  of- 
fice work  mostly,  and  had  spent  her  first  week's 
salary  ten  times  over  before  she  had  even  reached 
the  first  place.  There  were  about  thirty  girls 
standing  in  line  before  her,  and  she  turned  away 
with  a  curious  feeling  o*  iouot  in  herself  that  was 


262  Rook's  Nest 

entirely  new  to  her  royal  highness,  and  would 
have  made  Billie  rejoice  greatly. 

When  she  reached  home,  after  tramping  to  and 
fro  nearly  all  day,  she  found  Betty  fussing  over 
the  little  gas  stove. 

"  Think  you're  very  clever  at  stealing  a  march 
on  me,  don't  you  ?  "  she  called  over  her  shoulder. 
"  Bet  you  went  off  without  a  sign  of  rubbers  and 
the  snow  and  slush  is  a  foot  deep  down  town." 

"  They're  not  very  wet,"  said  Avis,  ruefully. 

"  Don't  talk  back  to  me  when  I'm  playing  Mug- 
gins. Take  off  those  wet  shoes,  and  come  and 
eat  I  have  a  ten  cent  can  of  baked  beans,  and  I 
am  warming  them  up  in  the  last  of  the  catsup. 
We  have  got  to  eat  crackers.  The  bread  is  gone." 

She  drew  the  little  table  up  to  its  accustomed 
place  beside  the  bed,  and  set  the  supper  on  it  as 
though  it  had  been  a  full  course  dinner.  Avis 
was  over  in  the  big  camp  rocker,  removing  her 
damp  shoes  for  a  pair  of  knit  bed-room  slippers 
that  Marjorie  had  sent  her,  and  Betty's  quick  ear 
caught  the  sound  of  a  cough. 

"You've  caught  cold,"  she  said,  decidedly. 
"  Now  you  can  go  to  bed,  and  be  dosed.  I  have 
some  great,  good  news." 

"  Did  you  see  Miss  Ogden  ?  "  and  a  glad  light 
of  hope  leaped  into  Avis'  tired  eyes.  "Will  she 
take  the  story  ?  " 


In  the  Fourth  Floor  Back          263 

*'  Guess  again,"  said  Betty,  trying  to  bo  cheer- 
ful. "  I  have  a  week's  work  addressing  envelopes 
at  the  mighty  wage  of  $5.00,  so  we  shall  not 
starve  yet  awhile,  that  is,  if  we  can  live  until  pay 
day.  Avis,  don't" 

But  Avis  had  thrown  herself  on  the  bed  and 
was  sobbing  bitterly.  All  her  own  failure  swept 
over  her  in  a  moment,  all  the  wreck  of  her  beauti- 
ful hopes  and  dreams,  and  she  felt  crushed  and 
defeated.  Betty  regarded  her  in  silence  for  a 
while,  and  then  went  on  serenely  with  her  own 
supper. 

"Cry,"  she  said.  "Cry  hard.  It  does  you 
more  good  than  anything,  and  I  know  how  you 
feel.  Only  do  stay  in  the  house,  and  keep  your- 
self well,  and  let  me  do  the  tramping,  because  I'm 
used  to  it" 

The  following  day  Avis'  cold  was  worse,  and 
when  Betty  left  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning 
for  her  new  position,  she  stopped  at  Madame 
Penionte's  little  suite  back  of  the  parlor  and  had 
a  serious  talk  with  her. 

"  I  made  her  stay  in  bed,"  she  concluded,  "  but 
her  pulse  is  fast,  and  she  coughs  lots.  Please  do 
something  for  her,  Madame,  dear ;  hot  ginger  and 
goose  grease,  Aunt  Felicia  used  to  dose  me  with, 
but  I  suppose  that's  old-fashioned.  There's  some 
money  for  anything  you  need  at  the  drug  store.." 


264  Rook's  Nest 

and  she  laid  on  the  table  her  last  whole  dollar 
without  a  qualm  of  regret,  and  walked  the  dis- 
tance down  town  with  fifteen  cents  in  her  pocket- 
book,  and  a  world  of  love  and  hope  in  her  heart. 

Up-stairs  in  the  back  room  lay  Avis,  sick  and 
lonely.  Che  could  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  world 
of  roofs  through  the  window,  but  it  was  a  grey, 
snowy  morning,  and  the  prospect  was  far  from 
being  a  cheerful  one.  She  had  promised  Betty 
she  would  not  cry,  but  the  tears  would  rise  up  re- 
belliously,  and  wet  her  pillow.  Only  a  few  weeks 
to  Christmas.  She  knew  how  Billie  would  hunt 
the  woods  for  evergreen  to  trim  up  the  Nest,  and 
how  busy  Marjorie's  loving  fingers  must  be  mak- 
ing little  gifts  for  all  her  brood.  They  would  all 
fare  well  this  year,  she  thought,  with  Aunt  Be- 
thiah  there.  And  she  herself  had  been  six  whole 
weeks  in  her  fairyland  that  had  seemed  so  rich 
with  promises,  and  yet  not  a  single  remembrance 
could  she  send  home,  not  a  trophy  of  her  prowess. 

"  So  it  is  Avie,  who  is  ill,"  said  Madarne's  sweet 
voice  at  the  door,  and  she  entered  bearing  a 
dainty,  breakfast  tray,  and  set  it  down  beside  the 
bed.  "  It  is  nothing,  cherie,"  as  Avis  made  a  dep- 
recating gesture,  "but  a  slice  of  toast,  with  ze 
egg  poached  in  cream  on  it,  very  choice.  And  ze 
coffee.  Ah,  Bettee  say  nowhere  is  zare  such  cof- 
fee as  my  coffee.  And  ze  orange." 


In  the  Fourth  Floor  Back          265 

"  Oh,  mudame,  Low  good  you  are  to  me,"  Avis 
said,  her  flushed  face  full  of  gratitude.  "But, 
honest,  and  true,  I'm  not  a  bit  hungry." 

"  No  ?  "  Madame's  eyes  twinkled  with  amuse- 
ment. "  What  if  I  have  something  zat  make  ze 
appetite  ?  "  and  she  held  up  a  letter  invitingly. 

"  Oh,  you  dear ! "  cried  Avis,  reaching  for  it, 
eagerly.  "  I'll  eat — everything." 

Madame  laughed,  and  laid  the  letter  in  her  out- 
stretched hands,  then  quietly  moved  about,  putting 
the  room  in  order,  and  humming  softly  to  herself. 

The  letter  was  from  Marjorie. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  so  busy  with  your  precious 
work,"  she  wrote,  "  that  you  hardly  remember  it 
is  almost  Christmas,  but  here  we  talk  of  nothing 
else.  Mrs.  Eogers  was  over  this  morning,  show- 
ing me  how  to  make  mince-pies,  and  lots  of 
things.  I  made  two  just  to  try,  and  they  are  so 
good  that  I  am  going  to  send  one  to  you  and 
Betty.  Now  don't  laugh,  perhaps  it  will  taste 
good.  Billie  put  the  nuts  around  the  sides  of  the 
box  to  fill  up.  He  and  the  menagerie  have  a 
royal  stock  on  hand,  you  know,  and  he  wanted 
you  to  have  some,  too.  Don't  forget  us  all,  Avis, 
will  you,  in  the  midst  of  all  your  success  ?  Of 
course  I  know  you  are  sure  to  have  a  splendid 
Christmas,  but  do  please  miss  us  a  little.  We 
want  you  home  in  the  Nest  so  much  " 


266  Rook's  Nest 

Avis  could  read  no  more.  Madame  glanced 
over  her  shoulder  and  saw  the  forlorn  figure  lying 
face  downward  in  the  pillows. 

"  Is  it  ze  illness  for  ze  home  place,  cherie  ?  " 
she  asked,  in  her  quaint,  twisted  English,  with  a 
loving  pat  on  the  soft  blonde  hair.  "  Bettee  says 
for  zat,  zare  is  nothing  like  one  grand  cry." 

Avis  nodded  wearily.  It  seemed  to  her  as 
though  all  life  had  narrowed  down  now  to  the 
"  illness  for  the  home  place,"  and  "  one  grand 
cry." 

That  night,  seated  on  the  topmost  stair  on  the 
landing,  Betty  listened  to  the  doctor's  retreating 
footsteps  with  an  aching  heart,  and  wondered  if 
people  who  were  threatened  with  pneumonia  ever 
died,  and  whether  Muggins  ought  not  to  know. 


CHAPTER  XIX 
The  Princess*  Treasure 

THE  snow  that  nearly  submerged  the  little  Nest 
in  its  mighty  drifts  remained  for  several  days,  and 
there  being  no  return  of  the  mysterious  noise, 
Marjorie  commanded  that  all  efforts  to  discover  its 
origin  be  postponed,  and  the  energies  of  the  Rat- 
tletibangers  directed  toward  the  preparations  for 
Christmas. 

There  were  wonderful  secrets  in  the  air.  The 
Owl  and  the  Lion  chuckled  over  hidden  mysteries 
in  their  corner,  and  Billie  went  about  in  a  heavy, 
portentious  manner,  with  a  glue  pot  in  one  hand 
and  a  jack-knife  in  the  other,  and  sought  sanctuary 
out  in  the  wood-shed.  He  and  Mr.  Rogers  had 
gone  out  in  the  woods  farther  down  the  river,  and 
searched  for  a  Christmas  tree ;  and,  when  it  was 
finally  selected,  never  was  ye  yule  log  of  olden 
time  hauled  from  its  forest  home  with  such  jolli- 
fication and  shouting.  Two  of  Mr.  Rogers'  big 
russet  colored  oxen  were  yoked  up,  and  made  the 
central  feature  of  a  triumphal  procession  to  the 

267 


268  Rook's  Nest 

woods,  Billie  and  the  Lion  astride  their  backs 
like  bold  caballeros.  When  the  stately  evergreen 
crashed  to  the  ground,  Dora  and  Winnie  mounted 
its  branches,  and  rode  home  enthroned  like  prin- 
cesses ;  only  as  the  Owl  said,  "  It  was  a  little 
bumpy." 

Mrs.  Rogers  had  invited  them  all  to  spend 
Christmas  with  her,  and  have  the  tree  at  the  farm, 
but  Marjorie  said  no.  It  might  be  the  last  Christ- 
mas they  would  spend  in  the  little  home  that  they 
all  loved  so  well.  So  the  tree  was  crowded  into  the 
sitting-room,  and  Billie  and  Mr.  Keith  fixed  it  up- 
right in  a  box  in  the  centre  of  the  room. 

"It  looks  as  if  a  Hindoo  wizard  had  been 
around  and  made  everything  sprout,"  Marjorie 
said,  when  the  last  yard  of  evergreen  had  been 
twined  around  the  wall,  and  a  wreath  placed  in 
every  window. 

"Bet  a  cookie  her  royal  highness  wishes  she 
was  home,"  Billie  remarked,  confidently.  He 
had  brought  a  big  milk-pan  full  of  pop-corn 
ears  into  the  sitting-room  from  the  kitchen,  and 
seated  himself  on  a  stool  near  the  fire  to  shell 
them.  It  was  late  in  the  afternoon.  The  sun 
shone  redly  through  the  rows  of  lilacs,  and  made 
the  snow-drifts  look  like  piles  of  strawberry  ice- 
cream. 

"Now,  don't  look  out  of   the  window  and  get 


The  Princess'  Treasure  269 

mournful,"  he  addod,  hastily,  as  Marjorie  walked 
over  to  the  window  without  answering.  "I 
wouldn't  worry  the  way  you  do  for  anything. 
Didn't  Uncle  Harvey  say  he'd  look  her  up  ?  " 

A  dark,  curly  head  was  poked  suddenly  into 
doorway. 

"  Billie  "- 

"  Go  down  cellar,  and  get  some  apples,"  com- 
manded Billie,  severely.  "  Get  russets,  and  those 
little  yellow  sweet  ones.  I'm  busy." 

The  head  vanished. 

"  I'm  going  to  pop  this  to-night,"  he  went  on, 
"  all  of  it,  so  that  the  Lion  and  Winnie  can  string 
it  for  the  tree.  And  Christmas  we'll  make  pop- 
corn balls,  and  pull  molasses  candy,  and  have 
whole  oodles  of  nuts  " 

"Have  what?" 

"  Oodles.  Stacks,  bunches,  piles.  Oodles  sounds 
more  than  any  of  them.  And  apples,  and  dough- 
nuts, and  "- 

There  was  a  wild  scrambling  in  the  kitchen, 
and  a  prolonged  howl  that  only  the  Lion  could  be 
guilty  of.  The  pan  of  pop-corn  fell  to  the  floor, 
and  Billie  stampeded  madly  toward  the  scene  of 
action,  with  Marjorie  following  at  his  heels.  They 
were  just  in  time  to  see  the  Lamb  emerge  from 
the  cellar  opening  on  all  fours,  while  the  remain- 
der of  the  menagerie  had  fled  to  a  far  corner. 


270  Rook's  Nest 

"  Now  what  have  you  done  ?  "  demanded  Billie. 
"  Scared  a  spider  into  fits  ?  " 

"  You  can  go  down  after  your  old  apples,  your- 
self," returned  Dora,  haughtily,  shutting  the  cellar 
door  with  a  bang.  "I  won't  go  down  there  again 
for  anything.  It's  there  again." 

"  It  is  ?  "  In  an  instant  Billie  was  alert  and 
eager.  He  raised  the  door  and  listened.  The 
strange  noise  could  be  plainly  heard,  and  Dora 
edged  cautiously  toward  Marjorie. 

"  I'm  going  to  find  out  about  that  this  time,  or 
go  and  be  a  soldier,"  announced  the  man  of  the 
house,  resolutely.  "  Dora,  get  the  big  shovel 
from  the  wood-shed,  please,  and  the  hoe,  too,  to 
hack  with.  Come  on,  Muggins." 

But  Marjorie  hesitated  long  enough  to  whisper 
something  in  Winnie's  ear,  something  very  im- 
portant, for  both  she  and  the  Lion  donned  their 
cloaks  and  caps,  and  started  off  without  the  knowl- 
edge of  Billie,  who  was  already  down  in  the  cel- 
lar pounding  on  the  ground  underneath  the  stairs. 
When  Marjorie  came  down  with  one  of  the  lamps, 
he  had  succeeded  in  loosening  the  hard,  trodden 
earth  considerably. 

"  Light  the  barn  lantern,  too,  Muggins,"  he  said, 
breathlessly.  "  I  can  hold  that  down  low." 

The  large  shovel  and  hoe  were  handed  down  by 
Dora,  with  the  addition  of  an  old  pitchfork. 


The  Princess'  Treasure  271 

"To  dag  anything  with,"  she  explained.  "Wish 
we  had  a  spear  or  a  tomahawk,  or  something  that 
I  could  throw  from  up  here." 

"And  stick  me  with  like  a  bug  on  a  pin," 
growled  Billie.  "Not  much.  Don't  you  dare 
throw  even  a  clothespin  this  way.  Hold  the  lan- 
tern low,  Muggins,  please." 

The  pitchfork  did  its  work  first  After  Billie 
hud  thoroughly  loosened  the  ground  with  it,  he 
tried  the  shovel.  Meamwhile  the  dull  noise  never 
ceased  its  strange,  deep-toned  grumble.  Each 
shovelful  of  earth  lifted  brought  the  sound  nearer, 
and  Marjorie  was  as  excited  as  Billie  himself  as 
the  hole  grew  larger  and  deeper. 

"  Is  the  dirt  getting  hot  ?  "  called  Dora,  anxiously. 
"I  shouldn't  wonder  if  it  were  a  volcano  after  all, 
should  you,  Billie  ?  " 

"  Not  a  bit,"  retorted  her  comrade,  as  he  made 
a  mighty  strike  with  the  pitchfork  into  a  fresh 
layer.  It  grated  on  metal  and  rebounded  in  his 
hand  instantly. 

"  Look  out ! "  Marjorie  could  not  restrain  the 
quick  cry  of  alarm.  Billie  had  dropped  the  pitch- 
fork, and  fell  to  shoveling  vigorously  until  finally 
the  shovel  edge  met  with  an  obstacle,  and  then  he 
took  the  lantern  and  knelt  over  the  hole  eagerly. 

"AVhat  is  it?"  asked  Marjorie,  bending  over  his 
shoulder  anxiously.  "Can  you  .see  anything?" 


272  Rook's  Nest 

"No,  but  I  can  feel  something."  Billie  tlirust 
his  arm  fearlessly  into  the  hole.  It  was  not  quite 
a  foot  and  a  half  deep,  but  the  earth  was  hard  and 
damp  to  the  touch,  and  his  hand  rested  on  iron. 
He  felt  around  it  cautiously.  It  was  round,  and 
as  large  as  the  top  of  a  tub.  Where  the  iron 
ended,  some  substance  equally  as  cold  and  resist- 
ing took  its  place,  and  this  extended  as  far  as  he 
could  feel,  which  was  only  a  few  inches  beyond 
the  outer  rim  of  the  iron  circle. 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  he  said.  "  There's  a  ring  in 
the  center  of  the  iron,  if  I  can  only  get  it  up." 

"Let  me  try,"  exclaimed  Marjorie,  kneeling  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  hole.  Just  as  she  did  so, 
however,  the  noise  came  again,  this  time  so  near 
that  both  sprang  back  instinctively.  At  the  same 
time  they  heard  the  kitchen  door  close,  and  foot- 
steps overhead. 

"Don't  you  want  some  help  down  there ?  "  called 
Mr.  Keith,  as  he  came  quickly  down  the  stairs. 
"  Won't  you  let  the  poor  ghost  rest  in  peace,  Bil- 
lie?" 

"That's  the  liveliest  ghost  ever  you  saw,  Mr. 
Keith,"  said  Billie,  seriously,  leaning  back  to  wipe 
his  flushed,  moist  face  on  his  coat  sleeve.  "  Look 
what  I've  found." 

After  a  minute's  scrutiny  of  the  hole  and  the 
iron  disc  at  the  bottom,  Mr.  Keith  removed  his 


The  Princess'  Treasure  273 

coat  and  went  to  shoveling  vigorously,  clearing  a 
good  space  on  a  level  with  the  circle  at  the  bottom. 
Then  he  took  the  lantern  and  made  a  careful  ex- 
amination. 

"  It  is  the  cover  to  something,"  he  said,  finally. 
"This  outer  rim  is  cement  and  rock.  We  can 
raise  the  cover,  I  think,  Billie,  by  slipping  the 
handle  of  the  hoe  through  the  ring  and  using  it  as 
a  lever.  It  is  oak  and  stoutly  braced  with  iron." 

"You're  a  jim  dandy,"  murmured  Billie,  ad- 
miringly, as  he  obeyed  orders,  and  took  a  firm 
grip  of  the  handle.  All  at  once  the  noise  sounded 
beneath,  and  Allyn  turned  to  Marjorie. 

"Will  you  please  go  up-stairs,  Marjorie,"  he 
said.  "  The  children  are  frightened." 

Marjorie  obeyed  the  firm,  quiet  voice  as  willingly 
as  Billie  had  done ;  although  she  knew  the  owner 
was  not  thinking  so  much  of  the  children's  fright  as 
he  was  of  her  safety  in  case  anything  happened. 

Allyn  drew  a  breath  of  relief  when  she  had 
gone. 

"Now,  then,  Billie,  boy,"  he  said,  resolutely, 
"  a  long  pull,  and  a  strong  pull,  and  a  pull  with 
all  your  might  Steady." 

As  they  raised  the  oak  handle,  the  iron  cover 
stirred  with  a  dull  grating  sound,  as  if  in  resent- 
ment at  this  untimely  disturbance  of  its  repose. 
Harder,  stronger  yet  came  the  force  against  it  It 


274  Rook's  Nest 

lifted  an  inch — a  foot — wavered,  and  finally  fell 
backward  with  a  sharp,  metallic  clang  against  the 
stone  and  cement,  exposing  to  view  a  deep,  dark 
aperture. 

"Don't  lean  over,  Billie,"  cautioned  Allyn, 
quickly.  "  There  may  be  poisonous  gases  down 
there." 

"It's  more  like  fresh  air,"  said  Billie,  amazedly. 
"  There's  water,  moving  water,  not  still  well  water. 
Don't  you  hear  it?" 

There  was  certainly  the  low,  gentle  sound  of 
water  lapping  against  the  stone  and  cement  ma- 
sonry, and  they  could  see  it  sparkle  not  five  feet 
below. 

"  If  we  only  had  a  sounding  line,"  began  Allyn, 
eager  as  a  boy  over  the  discovery ;  but  Billie  called 
loudly : 

"  Muggins,  tie  a  fork  to  the  end  of  the  ball  of 
twine,  and  come  down.  It  isn't  a  well,  is  it  ?  "  he 
added,  to  Allyn. 

"  I  don't  believe  so,"  the  latter  answered,  doubt- 
fully, peering  down  at  the  hole,  and  tapping  the 
masonry  as  far  as  he  could  reach  with  the  hoe 
handle.  "  Here's  something  queer.  It  is  like  an 
old  bucket  chain  fastened  into  the  stone  work.  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  this  was  the  ghost." 

As  he  spoke  the  rusty  chain  swung  slightly,  and 
far  down  like  an  echo  from  a  cavern,  came  the  hoi- 


The  Princess'  Treasure  275 

low  dull  noise  that  had  been  the  cause  of  all  the 
trouble. 

Billie's  eyes  looked  as  if  he  expected  to  see  a 
spectre  rise  at  any  moment  and  declare  itself. 

"  Jehoshaphat ! "  he  gasped.  "  Isn't  that  a  won- 
der, though !  It  comes  from  the  bottom,  if  there 
is  a  bottom.  Hurry  up,  Muggins,  with  that  fork." 

Not  only  Marjorie,  but  Dora  also  hurried  down 
the  cellar  stairs  at  the  call  Allyn  took  the  long 
line  of  twine  from  the  former.  It  was  more  than 
ten  feet  long,  and  weighted  with  one  of  the  heavy 
bone  handled  kitchen  forks.  He  leaned  over,  and 
let  it  drop  slowly  into  the  hole,  but  before  it  had 
fallen  seven  feet,  the  line  slacked,  and  the  bottom 
was  touched. 

"  Pull  up  the  chain,"  suggested  Billie,  who  had 
had  his  eye  on  it  for  some  time.  "  It's  swaying 
again.  Is  it  heavy  ?  " 

"  A  little,"  returned  the  other,  as  he  laid  the  im- 
provised plumb  line  on  the  ground  beside  him,  and 
turned  his  attention  to  the  chain.  "  It  feels  as  if 
it  had  an  old  water  bucket  on  the  end.  Take  hold, 
Billie,  here  it  comes." 

The  two  hauled  at  the  heavy,  rusty  chain,  and 
after  a  lot  of  scraping  and  dull  thumping  as  some- 
thing swung  against  the  wall,  the  end  was  reached, 
and  Billie  seized  the  mystery  boldly  when  it  came 
to  the  top,  and  laid  it  at  Marjorie's  feet 


276  Rook's  Nest 

"There's  your  old  ghost,  princess,"  he  said,  in 
triumph.  "  And  it  doesn't  feel  as  if  it  were  full  of 
dry  bones  either." 

Wondering,  the  girls  knelt  beside  the  discov- 
ery, while  Allyn  held  the  lamp  above  them.  It 
was  an  oblong  iron  box,  severely  plain,  and  from 
the  padlock  which  secured  it,  was  suspended  a 
small  key.  The  chain  was  hooked  into  a  ring  in 
the  top,  and  Billie  quickly  unfastened  it. 

"  Let's  cover  up  the  well  or  whatever  it  is,"  he 
said,  decisively,  "  and  go  up-stairs  with  this.  One 
mystery  at  a  time  is  enough." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  cried  Marjorie,  her  eyes  bright  with 
excitement.  "  We  will  take  it  up  into  the  kitchen." 

With  Billie's  help  Allyn  swung  the  iron  cover 
back  in  place,  and  they  all  followed  the  princess 
of  Rattletibang  up-stairs  to  see  what  her  treasure 
box  contained. 

It  was  very  heavy.  Marjorie  set  it  down  on 
the  kitchen  table,  and  promptly  inserted  the  key 
in  the  padlock.  All  at  once  she  paused. 

"  Do  you  think  I  have  any  right  to  open  it  ?  " 
she  asked  Allyn,  anxiously. 

"No  one  has  a  better,"  he  returned,  quickly. 
"No  one  on  earth." 

"  Oh,  do  stop  fussing  over  rights,  and  open  it," 
Billie  protested,  aggrievedly,  and  Marjorie  hastily 
turned  the  key.  It  grated  in  the  rusty  lock, 


The  Princess'  Treasure  277 

turned,  and  she  lifted  the  cover.  A  second  box  of 
black  tin  was  revealed,  but  this  only  shut  with  a 
clasp,  and  when  she  had  opened  it,  Marjorie  stood 
speechless  before  it. 

"  Billie !  "  she  exclaimed,  and  that  was  all.  The 
person  appealed  to  leaned  over  with  eyes  like  glass 
marbles,  and  gave  a  whistle  of  astonishment 

"  The  old  skinflint ! "  he  cried,  joyously. 
""NYho'd  have  thought  it  of  him?  Marjorie,  it's 
gold." 

"  All  gold,"  added  Allyn,  lifting  up  a  few  papers 
from  the  top.  "  Twenty  dollar  gold  pieces,  and 
down  here  a  few  bills,  fifty  dollar  bills." 

"Eggs  in  the  Rook's  Nest,"  exclaimed  Dora, 
starting  in  on  her  regular  Feejee  dance  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor.  "  Muggins  is  rich,  rich,  rich ! 
Did  you  ever  see  such  a  darling  ghost ! " 

Marjorie  stood  with  downcast  eyes  beside  the 
table,  looking  at  the  neat,  round  piles  of  dull  yel- 
low that  filled  the  box,  and  there  was  a  bright  red 
spot  on  each  cheek.  She  looked  from  them  to  the 
eager  faces  clustered  around,  at  Billie's  homely, 
mischievous  one  laughing  up  at  her,  at  the  Owl's 
wondering  eyes,  and  the  Lion's  chubby  fingers 
reaching  longingly  over  to  play  with  the  pretty 
pieces,  then  over  at  Dora,  flushed  and  dimpled,  and 
finally  she  met  Mr.  Keith's  steady  gaze. 

"  Do  you  suppose  it  is  mine  ?  "  she  asked. 


278  Rook's  Nest 

He  clasped  the  paper  he  had  been  glaiiciiig  over 
closer. 

"All  yours,  princess,"  he  replied,  confidently. 
"  It  goes  with  Book's  Nest  to  Marjorie  Cherring- 
ton  Bandall.  Listen  to  this."  He  opened  the 
paper  to  read  aloud  the  few  terse  lines  it  contained, 
in  which  old  Uncle  Cherrington  had  bequeathed 
his  hidden  hoard  to  the  heiress  of  Book's  Nest. 

"To  WHOM  IT  MAY  CONCEKN : 

"  I,  Cherrington  Kandall,  in  full  possession  of  my  fac- 
ulties, and  about  to  depart  for  Wyoming,  do  hereby  state 
that  the  contents  of  this  box  represents  my  entire  ready 
wealth ;  the  same  in  case  of  my  death  to  revert  to  my  niece, 
Marjorie  Cherrington  Randall,  with  the  estate  on  which  it 
is  found.  May  it  bring  her  the  happiness  denied  to  me. 

"  CHEEEINGTON  RANDAI/L." 

"Bully  for  the  old  boy!  "  murmured  Billie,  ec- 
statically ;  but  Marjorie  stood  up  on  one  of  the  old 
kitchen  chairs  and  held  out  her  hands  for  silence. 

"You  dear,  darling  children  of  mine,"  she  ex- 
claimed, joyously.  "It's  all  yours,  too,  and  wre'll 
have  the  most  glorious  time  that  ever  was,  and 
hunt  up  Avis,  and  bring  her  home,  and  send  Billie 
to  college,  and  never,  never  leave  our  blessed 
Book's  Nest!" 

"Polliwogs!"  cried  Billie.     "March!" 

All  four  formed  in  line  as  they  had  done  on  that 
other  memorable  day  when  the  council  of  state 
was  held  in  the  old  home,  and  they  marched 


The  Princess'  Treasure  279 

abound  the  table  and  chair  with  a  new  battle  song 
<  u  their  lips. 

••We'll  never,  never,  never, 
No,  we'll  never,  never,  never, 
Oh,  we'll  never,  never,  never, 
Leave  our  blessed  Book's  Nest." 


CHAPTER  XX 

Betty  Enters  the  Arena 

FOR  several  days  the  cloud  hung  over  the  fourth 
floor  at  Madame  Penionte's.  Betty  dared  not 
leave  her  position,  or  even  neglect  it,  so  she  started 
bravely  away  from  the  sick  chamber  every  morn- 
ing leaving  Madame  in  charge ;  for  even  five  dol- 
lars a  week  seemed  a  very  desirable  possession 
under  stress  of  present  circumstances. 

By  the  third  day  the  fever  was  checked,  and  the 
cough  better,  and  when  Betty  came  home  at  night 
with  tired,  anxious  eyes,  she  found  the  patient 
quiet,  and  out  of  danger  from  pneumonia. 

"If  she  remain  serene,"  added  Madame,  cheerily, 
nodding  her  white  puffs  at  Avis,  with  comical 
severity.  "  She  is  to  keep  most  serene,  and  com- 
posed, and  not  to  worry,  nor  to  weep,  nor  go  out 
without  the  rubbaires." 

"I'll  keep  her  serene,"  said  Betty,  vigorously. 
"  If  she  dares  shed  a  single  tear,  I'll  send  for  that 
Rogers  boy.  I  saw  him  to-day.  Now  don't  get 
red,"  waving  her  hand  at  the  face  on  the  pillow. 
"  I  didn't  talk  with  him,  or  tell  him  that  you  were 

280 


Betty  Enters  the  Arena  281 

sick,  or  anything.  Just  saw  him  sailing  out  of  the 
Fine  Arts  Building  about  noon.  I  always  eat  my 
ham  sandwich  and  lemon  pie,  in  2-11  time,  so  as 
to  have  a  chance  to  run  around  to  Michigan 
Avenue,  and  say  hello  to  the  lions  and  the  lake 
front.  He  was  walking  fast  and  never  even  saw 
this  child,  but  I  heard  from  Miss  Ogden  that  he 
got  the  position  on  the  Times-Herald,  so  he  is  a 
rising  young  artist  now  and  not  to  be  despised. 
Here's  something  I  found  for  you  down-stairs. 
The  expressman  left  it  for  your  serene  highness." 

Avis'  face  brightened  at  sight  of  the  generous 
sized  package. 

"It's  the  pie,"  she  exclaimed,  eagerly,  "Mar- 
jorie's  mince  pie  that  she  said  she'd  send." 

"  There,  there,  keep  serene,"  called  Betty,  warn- 
ingly,  on  her  way  to  the  little  cupboard  larder. 
"  Madame  and  I  can  manage  this  trifle  very  well 
alone.  Of  course  it's  pie,  and  delicious  pie,  too ; 
but  invalids  mustn't  eat  rich  luxuries,  must  they, 
Madame?" 

"Ah,  but  yes,"  Madame,  thus  appealed  to,  re- 
turned, warmly,  as  she  saw  the  longing  in  Avis' 
eyes.  "But  a  small  piece,  Bettee.  When  it  is 
home  pie,  it  is  not  pie,  it  is  medicine." 

So  the  precious  pie  was  unwrapped  with  much 
ceremony,  and  partaken  of  in  respectful  admira- 
tion. 


282  Rook's  Nest 

"Now,  you  are  not  to  stir  out  of  this  room  for 
a  week  or  more,"  Betty  said,  the  following  morn- 
ing, when  she  was  laying  down  the  law  for  Avis' 
future  guidance  in  the  path  of  health.  "I  have 
not  written  a  line  to  Muggins  about  your  nearly 
becoming  an  angel  because  you  went  out  without 
your  rubbers ;  but  you've  got  to  behave,  now,  and 
not  do  any  crazy  thing  to  upset  it  all." 

"  And  Christmas  coming  next  week  ?  "  the  inva- 
lid's tone  was  most  beseeching  and  a  little  rebellious, 
but  the  oracle  only  shook  her  head  relentlessly 
and  waved  good-bye  as  she  passed  on  down-stairs. 

So  all  during  the  week,  Avis  remained  an  un- 
willing captive  in  the  back  room,  with  Madame  in- 
stalled as  a  gentle  but  inexorable  warden.  So 
faithful  was  her  care  and  nursing,  however,  that 
by  Friday  Avis  declared  herself  fully  cured,  and 
when  Betty  came  home  that  night,  she  found  her 
"  clad,  and  in  her  right  mind,"  as  the  former  ex- 
pressed it.  Later  in  the  evening,  when  the  two 
were  alone,  they  held  a  consultation. 

"You  won't  be  fit  to  think  of  working  for  a 
couple  of  weeks  yet,  at  the  least,"  Betty  said,  de- 
cidedly, in  a  tone  that  brooked  no  argument.  "  We 
have  been  practically  living  on  Muggins'  mince 
pie  and  Madame's  poached  eggs  and  floating 
island  this  whole  week,  and  I  have  five  dollars 
coming  to  me  to-morrow  night.  Now,  we  cannot 


Betty  Enters  the  Arena  283 

on  five  a  week,  and  its  a  poor,  miserable 
,  anyway,  for  the  world  to  pay  such  mighty 
minds  as  ours.  I  think  I  shall  give  matters  a 
twist," 

"  If  Miss  Ogden  would  only  take  my  story,"  be- 
gan Avis,  thoughtfully,  but  Betty  interposed. 

"  That's  just  the  place  I  am  going  to  twist  I 
shall  go  there  to-morrow,  and  find  out  all  about 
it  Meanwhile,  you  must  write  to  Muggins  and 
tell  her  to  send  on  more  mince  pie.  It  is  very 
nutritious,  I  understand,  and  more  filling  than 
Madame's  floating  island.  I  don't  intend  that  we 
shall  spend  Christmas  weeping  and  wailing  and 
gnashing  our  teeth,  even  if  we  are  poor  and 
needy.  I  don't  know  what  gnashing  means,  but  I 
al  \\ays  think  it  would  hurt  like  sixty,  and  make  a 
gritty  noise  like  chewing  sand.  So  we  won't 
gnash.  I  mean  that  we  shall  have  a  good  time, 
and  a  happy  time — just  you  and  Madame  and  I 
celebrating — if  I  have  to  spend  all  my  five  dollars 
as  a  last  resort  And  I'm  going  to  twist  every- 
thing else  around  our  way." 

"But,  Betty,"  protested  Avis,  "I  am  strong 
enough  to  hunt  up  something  to  do  " 

Betty  threw  a  pillow  with  swift,  sure  aim  at  the 
rebeL 

"  Lie  down  and  go  to  sleep,"  she  commanded. 
"  You  must  keep  serene,  Madame  says.  Any  one 


284  Rook's  Nest 

would  think  I  was  first  mate  here  instead  of  cap- 
tain. Don't  you  dare  to  answer  back.  I  shall 
have  Madame  sit  on  the  landing  outside  the  door 
on  guard  all  the  time,  and  if  you  dare  to  attempt 
to  escape  you  shall  be  padlocked  to  the  bed.  I 
can  manage  to  do  all  the  twisting  myself." 

All  that  Avis  could  do  in  the  face  of  such  au- 
thority was  to  obey,  laughingly,  and  threaten  dire 
possibilities  for  the  morrow. 

A  few  minutes  past  twelve  the  next  day,  Miss 
Ogden  was  surprised  to  find  Betty  standing  beside 
her  desk. 

"  Trouble,  trouble,  boil  and  bubble,"  she  began 
at  once.  "  I  want  work,  Miss  Ogden,  so  don't  start 
in  and  give  advice.  My  bud  of  genius,  Avis,  you 
remember,  is  sick,  and  something  must  happen 
right  away.  We  need  anything  from  ten  dollars 
to  a  gold  mine  to  relieve  the  pressure  on  the  money 
market  at  the  present  moment." 

Behind  the  brave,  half  laughing  tone,  Miss  Og- 
den caught  the  undercurrent  of  real  distress,  and 
a  quick  wave  of  sympathy  swept  over  her,  for  she 
liked  Betty  cordially. 

"  Sit  down,  girlie,  and  tell  me  all  about  it,"  she 
said,  and  Betty  assented  gladly.  It  did  seem  a 
great  relief  to  tell  it  all  to  some  one,  all  the  strug- 
gle against  the  wolf, — "  not  one  lone  decent  wolf, 
but  a  whole  pack,"  as  she  said, — all  about  Avis 


Betty  Enters  the  Arena  285 

and  her  ambitions  and  failure,  even  about  Rook's 
N  *  st  and  the  flock  it  sheltered,  and  she  concluded, 
with  her  old  common  sense : 

"  Have  you  read  her  story,  and  can  you  use  it  ?  " 

Miss  Ogden  tapped  musingly  on  her  desk  with 
the  blue  pencil  which  she  held,  then  opened  a 
drawer  and  took  Avis'  manuscript  from  it. 

"  It  is  well  written,"  she  said,  turning  over  the 
pages  slowly.  "  I  have  read  it  carefully,  and  could 
use  it  if  it  was  shorter,  about  30,000  or  40,000 
words.  You  know  how  it  is,  Betty,  with  a  monthly 
magazine.  A  long  serial  drags  so,  and  Mr.  Newell 
says  he  does  not  wish  me  to  accept  any  of  this 
length." 

Betty's  lips  closed  firmly,  and  she  considered  a 
moment  l>efore  answering. 

"AY1  10  is  Mr.  Newell?" 

"The  publisher  of  the  Beauty.  Ee  arrived 
this  week  from  the  East." 

"Is  he  right  here?  Now?"  A  sudden  idea 
flashed  across  Betty. 

Miss  Ogden  nodded  her  head  toward  the  oak 
paneled  door  at  the  end  of  the  office. 

"Eight  in  there  this  minute,"  she  said.  "But 
I'm  afraid  it  is  hopeless,  dear." 

Betty  picked  up  the  manuscript,  and  there  was 
the  light  of  the  war-path  in  her  eyes. 

"  I'll  talk  with  him,  anyway, "  she  said,  reso- 


286  Rook's  Nest 

lutely.  "  It  can't  do  any  harm,  and  it  may  settle 
everything  all  right.  If  I  don't  return  in  half  an 
hour  send  after  the  remains.  I  feel  as  if  I  were 
being  thrown  to  the  lions  in  the  arena.  Good- 
bye." 

"  Good-bye,  and  good  luck,"  returned  Miss  Og- 
den,  smilingly,  with  her  warm,  friendly  hand  clasp, 
and  she  watched  the  erect  girlish  figure  until  it 
vanished  beyond  the  oak  paneled  door  into  the 
"arena." 

A  very  modern,  bloodless  arena  it  looked  at  first 
glance, — the  light,  well  furnished  private  office  of 
the  publisher  of  the  American  Beauty.  Betty  had 
been  in  it  before  when  she  was  working  on  the 
magazine,  but  this  time,  all  she  saw  was  the  gen- 
tleman seated  at  the  broad,  flat-topped,  mahogany 
desk  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  absorbed  in  the 
perusal  of  the  pile  of  letters  and  documents  before 
him.  He  glanced  at  her  questioningly  over  the 
rims  of  his  eye-glasses,  as  she  hesitated  a  moment 
at  the  door,  and  Betty  threw  down  the  gauntlet  at 
once. 

"I  am  Betty  Morgan,"  she  said,  quickly,  cross- 
ing to  the  desk  and  laying  the  manuscript  upon 
it.  "  I  used  to  be  Miss  Ogden's  assistant.  When 
we  used  the  syndicate  service  I  was  editor.  I 
want  to  see  you,  Mr.  Newell,  please,  about  this 
story,  '  Lorraine's  Legacy.'  " 


Betty  Enters  the  Arena  287 

Mr.  Newell  drew  the  manuscript  toward  him, 
and  looked  at  the  title  page.  When  he  turned 
again  to  Betty,  after  a  minute's  silence,  there  was 
a  new  interest  in  his  manner. 

"  Be  seated,  please,  Miss  Morgan,"  he  said,  with 
grave  courtesy.  "Do  you  know  the  author — per- 
sonally?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  very,  very  well."  The  flood  gates  of 
Betty's  sympathetic  enthusiasm  threatened  to  over- 
flow at  any  moment,  but  she  felt  that  she  must 
preserve  her  dignity  at  all  hazards,  if  the  interview 
was  to  be  a  success.  "  Miss  Randall  is  my  friend. 
In  fact,  we  are  room  mates.  She  has  been  very 
ill, — and — and," —  she  floundered  helplessly,  try- 
ing to  find  the  proper,  business-like  terms  she 
wanted ;  but  it  was  no  use,  and  finally,  she  raised 
her  head  in  desperation  and  charged  on  the  enemy. 
Before  she  had  time  to  regret  her  impulse,  or  re- 
call her  words,  she  had  told  Avis'  story  with  the 
same  unvarnished  frankness  that  she  had  used  to 
Miss  Ogden.  Mr.  Newell  listened  in  silence,  his 
elbows  on  the  arm  of  his  easy  chair,  his  finger  tips 
]  tressed  closely  together. 

"  So  you  see  that  something  must  happen,  and 
happen  right  now,"  concluded  Betty,  with  a  sigh 
of  relief  when  the  full  burden  of  confession  was  off 
her  shoulders.  "  Miss  Ogden  says  she  could  use 
the  story,  only  that  you  think  it  is  too  long.  But 


288  Rook's  Nest 

it  would  not  hurt  it  to  be  cut,  and  Avis  would  not 
care,  as  long  as  it  was  accepted.  And — and — oh, 
Mr.  Newell,  don't  you  think,  just  for  once,  you 
could  break  the  new  rule,  and  pay  on  acceptation? 
If  I  could  take  the  check  back  to  her  to-day  " — 
She  paused.  Such  a  possibility  was  too  much  to 
contemplate,  or  discuss,  and  still  remain,  as  Ma- 
dame would  have  said,  serene.  There  was  a  sus- 
picious brightness  about  her  eyes,  and  something 
fell  on  the  smooth,  shiny  surface  of  the  desk, 
something  that  left  a  round,  moist  mark  there. 
Her  lashes  were  downcast,  her  hands  clasped 
closely  in  her  lap.  She  felt  that  the  last  shot  was 
spent,  and  if  the  enemy's  citadel  yet  held  out,  all 
hope  was  lost. 

The  silence  was  growing  ominous,  when  finally 
Mr.  Newell  rose  and  glanced  at  his  watch. 

"  It  is  nearly  one  o'clock,"  he  said,  slowly.  "  TVe 
have  not  much  time.  I  intend  leaving  Chicago  on 
the  5:10  express  to  spend  Christmas  with  friends. 
Do  you  think  you  could  persuade  Avis  to  accom- 
pany me,  Miss  Morgan  ?  "  He  met  Betty's  look 
of  astonishment  with  a  gleam  of  quiet  amusement 
in  his  grey  eyes,  and  added,  "I  am  going  to 
Book's  Nest." 

Betty  sat  very  still.  She  looked  from  Mr. 
Newell  to  the  window  to  see  if  the  world  were  just 
the  same  as  it  had  been  a  moment  before,  or 


Betty  Enters  the  Arena  289 

whether  it  had  suddenly  taken  a  notion  to  turn 
topsyturvy.  But  it  was  just  the  same  old,  smoky 
world,  and  she  looked  back  at  Mr.  Newell,  a  puz- 
zled frown  contracting  her  straight,  dark  eye- 
brows. 

"  But  I  don't  see  how  on  earth  you  can  be  going 
there,"  she  began,  vaguely.  "It's  a  worse  twist 
up  now  than  it  was  before.  What  will  Avis  say  ?  " 

Mr.  Newell  smiled.  He  had  long  ago  heard 
from  Billie  of  her  royal  highness's  eccentricities, 
especially  where  the  Newells  were  concerned. 

"  I  think  the  sooner  we  find  that  out,  the  bet- 
ter," he  replied.  "We  will  go  to  her  at  once. 
Just  a  moment,  please,  Miss  Morgan." 

He  left  the  room,  and  Betty  stared  at  the  blue 
blotter  on  the  desk  as  though  such  a  remarkable 
curiosity  had  never  come  under  her  observation 
before.  Newell  ?  Where  had  she  ever  heard  that 
name?  Why,  from  Avis,  of  course,  Avis  herself, 
and  she  looked  down  at  the  manuscript.  There 
it  was  in  plain  sight  on  the  title  page,  Avis  Newell 
Randall.  She  had  forgotten  the  middle  name  al- 
together. Then  Mr.  Newell  must  be  some  rela- 
tive. She  knew  the  owner  of  the  American  Beauty 
must  be  wealthy*  and  her  heart  gave  a  quick,  glad 
throb  as  she  thought  of  the  fourth  floor  back 
room,  and  of  the  ambitions  and  hopes  that  were 
struggling  for  existence  there. 


290  Rook's  Nest 

Mr.  Newell  reentered  the  room,  and  her  lofty 
surmises  took  flight  like  a  flock  of  frightened 
birds.  He  held  a  slip  of  paper  in  his  hand,  and 
handed  it  to  her  with  a  smile. 

"  I  thought  probably  Avis'  return  home  to  the 
Nest  would  be  happier  if  she  were  sure  of  this," 
he  said.  "  The  carriage  is  waiting  for  us  now." 

Betty's  eyes  were  so  dim  as  she  looked  at  the 
magic  figures  on  the  generous  check,  that  she  did 
not  even  seen  Miss  Ogden's  friendly  smile  in  her 
direction,  as  they  passed  through  the  outer  office. 
All  that  she  could  think  of  was  Avis  waiting,  and 
of  the  great  joy  which  this  Christmas  held  for  her 
after  all  the  bitter  trials  and  disappointments  of 
the  past  two  months. 


CHAPTER  XXI 
Red  Rover  to  the  Rescue 

THE  December  sunshine  filled  the  fourth  floor 
back  room  with  golden  brightness,  finding  its  way 
even  through  the  dusty  windows,  and  lingering 
lovingly  on  Avis'  fair  hair  as  she  sat  at  her  old 
place  beside  the  little  rickety  table,  and  chewed 
the  end  of  her  pencil  to  chips. 

It  was  ten  o'clock.  Betty  had  been  gone  over 
two  hours,  and  Madame  was  down-stairs  attending 
to  her  morning  duties.  Avis  was  thinking  over 
the  talk  of  the  previous  night  with  troubled  feel- 
ings. She  could  not  bear  that  Betty,  generous, 
and  loving  as  she  was,  should  shoulder  the  burden 
of  their  support  any  more.  She  was  so  well  and 
strong  to-day,  and  it  was  such  a  glorious  day,  all 
sunlight  and  Christmas  promise.  She  looked 
again  at  the  open  door,  and  laid  down  her  pencil 
resolutely. 

Madame  was  very  busy,  and  no  sound  reached 
her  of  the  light  footstep  on  the  stairs,  or  the  closing 
of  the  front  door,  so  it  happened  that  the  invalid 
found  herself  on  the  street,  safe  from  solicitous 

291 


292  Rook's  Nest 

pursuit.  It  was  so  good  to  be  well  and  free  once 
more.  Her  one  brief  week  of  exile  had  seemed  so 
long  and  tedious  until  now  even  the  walk  to  the 
city  was  a  treat,  and  she  hurried  on,  so  full  of  new 
plans  that  she  did  not  stop  at  her  favorite  spot  on 
the  bridge,  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  river,  but  went 
straight  on  to  the  heart  of  the  city.  She  would 
try  each  of  the  newspaper  offices  and  magazines 
where  she  had  left  short  stories,  she  decided.  Out 
of  so  many,  surely  some  must  have  proven  accep- 
table. Not  a  cent  did  she  have  with  her,  for  every 
one  had  been  garnered  in  with  Betty's  meagre  store, 
in  order  to  buy  medicine,  but  she  laughed  to  her- 
self as  she  turned  into  the  Tribune  building  as  the 
first  port  of  good  promise,  and  thought  of  the  pos- 
sible riches  that  might  be  awaiting  her. 

She  went  direct  to  the  Sunday  editor's  room. 
He  was  very  pleasant.  As  ho  handed  her  a  long 
envelope  containing  her  story,  with  a  few  courteous 
words  of  regret,  Avis  wondered  how  he  had  time 
to  be  so  pleasant  over  so  hopeless  a  case,  and  she 
went  back  to  the  elevator  with  an  odd,  crushed 
feeling. 

It  was  the  same  story  over  and  over  again.  The 
long  envelope,  the  declined  story,  the  few  words  of 
regret.  The  only  thing  which  varied  was  the  de- 
gree of  pleasantness  in  the  editor's  manner.  When 
she  had  collected  all  of  the  rejected  manuscripts, 


Red  Rover  to  the  Rescue          293 

she  went  over  to  the  Public  Library,  and  took  ref- 
uge in  one  of  Betty's  favorite  odd  corners,  the 
Roman  seat  on  the  first  floor  under  the  shadow  of 
the  arching  stairway.  She  was  very  tired  and 
lonely  and  heartsick.  Moreover,  but  this  was  an 
incidental  misfortune  to  which  she  was  becoming 
accustomed,  she  was  hungry.  As  Betty  said,  mince 
pie  and  floating  island  had  been  their  staff  of  life 
for  several  days,  with  occasional  diversions  in  the 
way  of  eggs,  poached  and  otherwise.  That  morn- 
ing there  had  been  very  little  on  the  table  stand- 
ing beside  the  bed,  and  Avis  had  feigned  caprice 
of  appetite,  that  the  bread  winner  might  have 
plenty.  But  now  that  her  bold  onslaught  upon 
the  world  had  proven  such  a  disastrous  failure,  she 
felt  cold  and  faint 

Back  and  forth  people  hastened,  but  it  was  dusk 
in  the  corner  at  the  side  of  the  stairs,  and  no  one 
noticed  the  slender  figure  sitting  there,  or  the  tears 
that  fell  on  the  long  yellow  envelopes.  It  was 
late  in  the  afternoon,  and  every  one  was  hurrying. 
Avis  noticed  how  many  wore  tiny  sprigs  of  holly 
in  their  buttonholes,  and  when  a  boy  who  looked 
like  Billie  passed  the  corner,  whistling  a  fragment 
of  a  carol,  she  remembered  all  at  once  that  it  was 
Christmas  Eve.  Christmas  Eve  !  She  thought  of 
the  light,  and  warmth,  and  good  cheer  at  Rook's 
Nest,  of  Muggins,  and  her  little  band  of  loving  fol- 


294  Rook's  Nest 

lowers,  and  of  the  feasting  and  merrymaking  there 
would  be,  with  Billie  installed  as  king  of  the  rev- 
els. The  great  electric  globes  around  her  flashed 
into  sudden  light  and  beauty.  Betty  and  she  had 
always  loved  these  special  ones  that  looked  like 
colossal  moonstones  or  opals,  but  now  they  only 
served  to  betray  the  secret  of  her  hidden  wailing 
place,  and  she  rose  to  go. 

The  swinging  outer  doors  were  hard  to  open, 
and  her  eyes  were  so  blurred  that  she  could  hardly 
see  her  way.  Suddenly  one  of  them  was  pushed 
inward  from  the  outside  and  swung  heavily  toward 
her.  She  would  have  fallen  but  for  some  one's 
ready  arm,  some  one  tall,  and  dark,  humming  a 
song  under  his  breath. 

"  I'm  so  sorry,"  he  began,  raising  his  cap,  and 
opening  the  door  for  her.  "  Are  you  hurt  ?  " 

Avis  recognized  the  voice  in  a  moment,  but  she 
would  not  stop.  Not  for  anything  would  she  have 
Bob  Rogers  find  her  in  the  time  of  utter  defeat,  so 
she  only  shook  her  head,  and  attempted  to  pass 
by  him.  But  something  familiar  in  the  contour  of 
her  figure  caught  Bob's  attention,  and  he  laid  his 
hand  on  her  arm. 

"  Avis,"  he  said,  "  Avis,  don't  you  know  me  ? 
It's  Bob.  Wait  a  minute.  I  must  see  you." 

She  paused  outside,  and  he  joined  her.  The 
snow  was  falling  and  Avis  had  a  sudden  inclina- 


Red  Rover  to  the  Rescue          295 

tion  to  laugh  as  she  remembered  Madame1  s  strict 
injunctions  to  keep  serene,  and  to  wear  her  "  rub- 
baires." 

"  Why  wouldn't  you  wait  ?  "  asked  Kob,  when 
tin  y  started  to  walk  toward  State  Street  "I  have 
been  wanting  to  see  you  so  that  I  could  carry  a 
message  to  Marjorie  and  the  resi  I'm  going 
home  to-night  to  spend  Christmas.  Are  you  ?  " 

"No." 

He  caught  the  smothered  sob  that  accompanied 
the  word,  and  bent  forward  to  look  at  her  face. 
It  was  white,  and  tear-stained. 

"  Avis,"  he  exclaimed,  "  you're  crying." 

There  was  no  response. 

"  How  white  you  are ! " 

"I  have  been  ill,"  she  said,  making  a  brave 
effort  to  conceal  from  him  how  faint  and  tired  she 
was. 

Rob  thought  deeply  for  a  minute.  He  had  met 
Betty  once  or  twice  at  the  library  and  remembered 
some  of  her  frank  admissions  as  to  the  financial 
state  of  affairs  in  the  partnership  of  Morgan  & 
Randall,  "  Ambitionists,"  as  she  had  added.  He 
knew  also  of  the  change  in  the  editorial  staff  on 
the  magazine,  and  so  drew  his  own  conclusions. 

"  I  just  came  from  the  office,"  he  said,  "  and  was 
going  to  have  a  quiet  little  read  all  by  myself  in 
the  library  among  the  new  magazines.  But  I'm 


296  Rook's  Nest 

hungry  as  a  wolf,  and  we'll  go  and  have  a  feast  of 
reason  somewhere,  and  talk  the  case  over.  I  know 
you  ought  to  have  soup  or  something  like  that 
when  it's  so  cold,  and  you've  been  sick.  Marjorie  or 
mother  would  make  you  take  it,  so  I'm  going  to." 

"  No,  no — I  wont " —  Avis  began,  rebelliously, 
with  a  touch  of  her  old,  quick  pride ;  but  Eob 
only  laughed,  and,  taking  her  resolutely  by  the 
arm,  hurried  her  along,  stopping  only  at  a  corner 
stand  to  buy  a  great,  loose  cluster  of  pink  roses. 

"  It's  Merry  Christmas,"  he  said,  placing  them 
in  her  unwilling  hands.  "  No  fair  being  cross  at 
Christmas.  You  must  forgive  all  old  scores  and 
be  friends,  because  we're  just  a  couple  of  home- 
sick waifs  to-night.  How  dark  the  falling  snow 
makes  it.  It  is  only  half-past  three.  Doesn't  all 
the  holly  and  evergreen  and  snow  and  everything 
make  you  want  to  run  and  shout  like  sixty  ?  It 
does  me.  I'd  like  to  be  right  up  yonder  on  the 
top  of  the  Masonic  Temple  with  a  megaphone,  or 
some  kind  of  a  'phone,  and  yell  'Merry  Christ- 
mas '  down  at  the  whole  crowd.  Marjorie  would 
be  awfully  glad  to  see  you." 

The  last  came  so  suddenly  that  Avis  caught  her 
breath,  but  he  did  not  give  her  time  to  reply,  for 
they  had  reached  the  restaurant  and  he  hurried 
her  into  its  bright,  warm  entrance. 

"  I  don't  usually  come  here,"  he  explained,  with 


Red  Rover  to  the  Rescue          297 

boyish  honesty,  when  they  were  seated.  "  Only 
Christmas  and  birthdays.  Had  one  birthday  here 
all  by  myself  the  first  month  I  came.  I  was  so 
blue  and  homesick  I  told  the  waiter  it  was  my 
birthday,  and  gave  him  a  dime  to  wish  me  many 
happy  returns,  but  he  didn't.  This  is  my  first 
Christmas.  What  shall  we  eat  ?  " 

Avis  leaned  back  in  her  chair,  watching  the  re- 
flections in  the  mirrored  walls.  She  tried  to  feel 
indignant,  and  reserved,  but  it  was  a  hard  task 
when  one  was  cold  and  hungry,  and  had  been  sud- 
denly whisked  into  this  fairy-land  of  good  promise, 
so  she  only  answered  : 

"  You  order  anything,  please.  I  am  so  tired  I 
don't  care." 

So  Bed  Rover  ordered,  and  it  was  a  feast  of 
plenty,  and  he  laughed  and  talked  more  than  ever 
so  that  no  suspicion  should  lurk  in  Avis'  mind 
that  he  thought  her  really  hungry,  for  he  knew 
the  pride  of  her  royal  highness.  Finally  when  all 
was  finished,  he  looked  at  her  critically.  The 
tired  look  was  gone  from  her  eyes,  and  her  cheeks 
had  a  faint  flush  on  them  that  was  like  a  reflection 
from  the  roses  in  her  hand. 

"  Now  you  look  like  yourself,  and  not  like  a  stiff- 
necked  ghost,"  he  said,  approvingly.  "Do  you 
know  what  is  going  to  happen  now  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head,  and  smiled.     It  was  such 


298  Rook's  Nest 

a  delightful  novelty  to  be  told  what  she  must  do, 
after  she  had  made  a  failure  of  her  own  way  so  long. 

"Well,  then,"  continued  Red  Hover,  decidedly, 
"  your  royal  highness  is  going  back  to  Book's  Nest 
with  me  on  the  5:10  express,  and  you  haven't  a 
moment  to  lose." 

"  I  wouldn't  do  it  for  anything."  In  an  instant 
Avis  was  her  old  self,  fighting  against  that  Rogers' 
boy.  Go  home,  indeed,  defeated  and  heartsick, 
without  a  single  trophy  won,  while  all  the  children 
blew  trumpets  of  Red  Rover's  fame  in  her  ears ! 
Not  for  the  world  would  she  do  so,  not  even  for  a 
sight  of  the  dear  faces,  and  the  touch  of  Marjorie's 
hand.  She  rose  from  the  table. 

"  It  is  late,"  she  said.  "  Betty  will  be  expect- 
ing me." 

Rob  was  silent  until  they  reached  the  street. 
He  wished  with  all  his  heart  that  Billie  was  there 
to  manage  the  "  stiff-necked  damsel."  He  could 
see  that  Avis  was  worn  out  and  disheartened  and 
half  sick  now,  and  how  Marjorie  would  love  to  pet 
her,  and  nurse  her  back  to  strength  and  content- 
ment. But  all  schemes  faded  from  his  mind  as  he 
glanced  at  their  object,  walking  on  quickly,  her 
head  erect,  her  air  resolute  and  defiant. 

"Are  you  going  to  take  the  car?"  Rob  asked, 
mildly,  as  a  friendly  overture. 

"No.     I  like  to  walk,"  came  the  unequivocal 


'HER  HEAD  ERECT,  HER  AIR  RESOLUTE  AND  DEFIANT" 


Red  Rover  to  the  Rescue          299 

answer.  It  would  never  do,  she  thought,  to  let 
him  know  she  did  not  own  a  nickel  in  the  world. 

A  fragment  of  Billie's  advice  concerning  treat- 
ment for  Avis  under  such  circumstances  occurred 
to  Rob. 

"  If  she's  just  huffy,  rush  her,  and  take  her  by 
surprise.  If  she's  hopping  mad,  don't  notice  her. 
Do  as  you  please,  and  it  will  come  out  all  right. 
She  is  a  rebellious  and  unruly  people,  saith  the 
prophet." 

A  North  State  Street  car  was  waiting  at  the 
Luke  Street  terminus,  and  Bob  made  up  his  mind 
at  once. 

"  It's  too  cold  to  walk,"  he  said,  briskly,  and  be- 
fore Avis  could  gasp  a  remonstrance,  she  was  on 
the  car,  speeding  northward.  Rob  laughed  at  her 
expression  of  suppressed  indignation. 

"  We  haven't  much  time  to  lose  before  5:10,"  he 
said.  "  This  will  save  ten  minutes,  anyway." 

"  But  I  won't  go,"  she  began,  vehemently.  Then 
all  at  once  the  great  homesickness  swept  over  her, 
and  she  forgot  her  grievance  of  the  moment,  as 
she  added  helplessly,  "  Don't  you  suppose  I  would 
go  if  I  could  ?  Don't  you  suppose  that  I  want  to 
see  them  all  so  badly  that  I  can  hardly  stand  it  ? 
But  I  won't  go  back  till  I  have  something  to  show 
for  my  coming.  I  won't  go  back  like  a  bad  penny. 
You  may  tell  Marjorie  that  if  you  wish," 


300  Rook's  Nest 

Bob  was  silent,  but  doing  a  lot  of  thinking  in 
his  own  way. 

"  Isn't  there  any  way  out  of  it  at  all  ?  "  he  asked 
at  last,  when  they  left  the  car  at  Huron  Street  and 
hurried  over  to  Madame  Penionte's. 

A  sudden  hope  brightened  Avis'  face.  There 
was  a  carriage  standing  in  front  of  the  house  with 
the  low  French  doorway,  but  she  scarcely  noticed 
it. 

"  There  would  be  a  way,"  she  said,  as  they  en- 
tered the  vestibule.  "  If  Betty  should  happen  to 
have  a  check  for  a  hundred  dollars  for  me." 

"  Is  it  a  joke  ?  "  he  asked.  Hob's  face  was  very 
serious.  He  had  stepped  into  the  little  reception 
room  at  the  side  of  the  hall  to  wait  for  her,  when 
all  at  once  the  portieres  at  the  far  end  of  the  room 
were  parted  and  Madame  swept  down  on  Avis  like 
a  hen  on  a  runaway  chick. 

"  Oh,  ma  petite,  but  it  is  Bettee  who  is  era-zee !  " 
she  cried,  folding  Avis  in  a  close  embrace.  "  She 
has  seen  you  dead,  crushed,  fainted,  brought  home 
in  very  small  pieces.  And  you  did  forget  ze  rub- 
baires." 

The  last  was  a  wail  of  reproach,  but  Betty's 
voice  called  over  the  banisters  : 

"  Come  up  here  this  minute,  Avis  Newell  Ran- 
dall. I  wish  you  merry  Christmas  even  if  you  do 
die  of  a  relapse  next  week.  Don't  stop  to  argue 


Red  Rover  to  the  Rescue          301 

or  talk,  but  come  up.  I've  got  something  for 
you." 

Avis  hesitated. 

"  Rob  is  with  me,"  she  returned,  doubtfully,  and 
Betty  laughed. 

"Hurrah!  He  was  the  only  domino  missing 
to  make  the  set  Come  on,  and  bring  him,  too !  " 

Madame  nodded  her  head  mysteriously. 

"  It  is  quite  true,"  she  said.  "  It  is  one  grand 
surprise  she  has.  Oh,  but  so  tall,  so  splendid  he 
is.  And  ze  coupe.  Bettee  came  home  in  a 
coupe." 

"  She  must  have  the  check,"  Avis  said,  turning 
to  Rob  with  a  tremulous,  uncertain  smile.  "  Let's 
all  go  up." 

At  the  top  of  the  stairs  stood  Betty,  radiant, 
with  a  perfect  halo  of  happiness  around  her  joy- 
ous face. 

"Avis,  Avis,"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  met  the 
runaway  with  outstretched  hands.  "The  most 
wonderful  fairy  tale  in  the  world  has  come  true, 
and  we're  all  going  to  Muggins  and  the  Nest" 

"  How  much  ?  "  asked  Avis,  breathlessly,  think- 
ing only  of  the  possible  check ;  but  suddenly  she 
saw  the  stranger  who  stood  in  the  centre  of  the 
back  room,  and  she  paused  on  the  threshold,  tired, 
and  astonished.  It  was  Betty  who  managed  the 
introduction  with  her  usual  happy  felicity. 


302  Rook's  Nest 

"  This  is  Avis,"  she  said,  the  words  fairly  tum- 
bling over  each  other  in  her  eagerness  to  tell 
everything  at  once.  "  And  Rob,  Bob  Rogers,  you 
know.  Avis  Randall,  look  at  that  check.  The 
budding  genius  has  budded  and  blossomed  at  last. 
And  this  is  Mr.  Newell,  Uncle  Harvey,  your  own 
Uncle  Harvey,  and  he  owns  the  whole  magazine, 
and  I'm  never  going  to  work  any  more,  and  we're 
all  going  to  Rook's  Nest  right  now !  Oh,  dear, 
Madame,  so  many  things  have  happened  all  in  a 
bunch  that  I  think  I  am  turning  into  a  whirligig. 
Avis,  please  don't  look  pale  like  that." 

Avis  seated  herself  on  the  edge  of  the  worn 
lounge,  and  tried  to  smile. 

"  I  feel  pale,"  she  said,  unsteadily.  "  It  is  all 
so  mixed  up.  Where  is  Aunt  Bethiah  Newell  ?  " 

"Dead,"  returned  Betty,  solemnly,  forestalling 
Mr.  Newell's  explanation.  "I  am  the  only 
Bethiah  Newell,  now.  How  much  time  have  I, 
father?" 

Mr.  Newell  glanced  at  his  watch. 

"Just  fifteen  minutes  to  talk,  girlie,"  he  an- 
swered, while  Rob  and  Avis  looked  at  each  other 
in  amazement.  "  Tell  it  quickly." 

"  Well,  then,  listen,  folkses,"  Betty  stood  up  on 
the  chair  at  the  end  of  the  room,  where  Avis  us- 
ually sat  to  work  and  write,  and  began,  impres- 
sively, her  brown  eyes  shining  with  excitement. 


Red  Rover  to  the  Rescue          303 

"  First  of  all,  Uncle  Harvey  is  the  Avmt  Bethiah 
whom  Avis  has  worried  over,  and  never  told  me  a 
word  about  all  this  time.  Second,  Uncle  Harvey 
is  Mr.  Newell,  publisher  of  the  American  23e<i>if>/, 
and  other  things.  Third,  Uncle  Harvey " — she 
paused,  and  looked  around  proudly,  "  is  Bethiah 
Newell's  father,  and  I  am  Bethiah  Newell,  and 
that's  what  we  two  have  found  out  this  afternoon." 

"  But  how  ?  "  asked  Rob.  Avis  was  silent  from 
sheer  astonishment.  Betty  pointed  to  the  picture 
of  her  mother  in  the  bronze  frame. 

"  We  came  for  Avis,  but  found  her  gone,"  she 
answered.  "  Then  father  saw  that,  and  nearly  had 
a  fit" 

"O,  Bettee,"  interposed  Madame,  in  despair. 
"  Not  a  fit  He  lose  the  tr-ranquility." 

"  Well,  I  should  say  he  did,  rather,"  laughed 
Betty,  gaily.  "  And  so  will  Aunt  Felicia  lose  the 
tranquility  when  I  write  and  tell  her  that  I've 
found  my  own  dear  father,  and  that  I've  got  a 
name  at  last  Avis,  I'm  your  own,  ownliest 
cousin,  and  cousin  to  Muggins  and  the  whole 
menagerie  and  Billie.  Don't  you  understand  it 
all?" 

"  Oh,  Betty,  Tin  so  glad  for  you ! "  Betty's 
arms  were  around  her  new  cousin,  and  Avis'  blue 
eyes  had  lost  their  tired  look  as  she  returned  her 
smile.  "What  will  they  all  say  at  the  Nest?  " 


304  Rook's  Nest 

"  Time's  up,"  called  Mr.  Newell.  "  Eobert,  boy, 
you  and  I  will  go  down-stairs  and  wait  for  these 
two  excited  young  persons  to  follow.  Only  two 
minutes  allowed  for  taking  leave,  daughter." 

The  door  closed,  and  Betty  sat  down  on  the  top 
of  the  table  with  a  raptuous  sigh. 

"  Avis  Randall,"  she  said,  impressively.  "  Just 
think  after  being  nobody  for  over  nineteen  years, 
all  at  once  to  wake  up,  and  find  out  you're  some- 
body, and  somebody  special  at  that." 

But  Madame  waved  sentiment  aside,  and  checked 
the  flood  of  words. 

"  Two  minutes,"  she  cried,  rushing  to  Avis  with 
her  neglected  rubbers.  "  It  is  not  to  talk,  Bettee. 
It  is  to  act  ze  rapid.  Ze  coupe  waits.  Avie,  put 
on  your  rubbaires.  So.  Leave  everything  as  it 
is ;  I  will  keep  it  all  most  secluded,  and  send  ze 
trunks  to  you.  Ah,  Bettee,  so  shabby  ze  jacket 
and  ze  gloves  to  ride  in  a  coupe.  You  shall 
have  my  white  gloves.  They  are  so  much  ze 
genteeL" 

"  I  won't  have  anything  of  the  sort,"  exclaimed 
Betty,  indignantly.  "  The  idea  of  such  a  thing  ! 
Your  white  gloves,  indeed !  Never  you  mind,  you 
dear.  I'll  come  back  civilized  and  genteel,  and 
never,  never  forget  you,  you  old  darling,  or  your 
delicious  floating  islands." 

She  seized  the  old  French  lady  in  her  strong, 


Red  Rover  to  the  Rescue          305 

young  arms,  and  gave  her  a  royal  squeeze  that 
left  both  of  them  breathless. 

"  I've  got  the  satchel,  Avis,"  she  added.  "  Packed 
it  this  afternoon  while  we  were  waiting  for  you. 
And  that's  all" 

The  two  girls  stood  side  by  side  in  the  old, 
shabby  room,  and  looked  around  for  the  last  time, 
while  Madame  smiled  at  them  through  fast  falling 
tears.  The  room  was  dim,  and  they  could  see 
the  snow  coming  down  heavily  beyond  the  dusty 
lace  curtains. 

"Bless  it,"  said  Betty,  softly.  "It  has  been 
our  castle,  Avis.  Seems  as  if  we  were  deserting 
an  old  friend,  doesn't  it  ?  " 

"Go,  go  at  once,"  protested  Madame,  plain- 
tively. "  Or  it  will  be  ze  grand  weep." 

It  came  very  near  being  a  grand  weep  before  all 
were  safely  settled  in  the  carriage,  waving  good- 
bye to  the  stately  figure  standing  alone  in  the  low, 
French  doorway,  with  the  dusk  and  falling  snow 
around  her. 

"  Isn't  it  glorious,  Avis ! "  exclaimed  Betty,  lay- 
ing one  cheek  lovingly  against  Mr.  Newell's  coat 
sleeve.  "  Isn't  it  glorious  to  belong  to  people  of 
your  very  own,  and  leave  all  the  world  behind  to 
fight,  and  worry  on  in  its  old,  bothersome,  twisted 
up  way  ?  " 

Her  royal  highness  only  smiled  back  happily, 


306  Rook's  Nest 

her  head  leaning  on  the  soft  cushions.  She  was 
tired,  so  very  tired  now  that  it  was  over.  It  all 
seemed  like  some  marvelous  dream,  but  one  thing 
was  in  her  thoughts  clearly  all  the  time.  She  did 
hope  Marjorie  would  be  at  the  little  front  window 
watching  the  road  to  the  ravine. 


CHAPTER  XXH 
The  Birds  Fly  Home 

"  IT'S  snowing  like  all  get  out,"  Billie  announced, 
as  he  came  stamping  into  the  kitchen  from  the 
wood-shed,  his  arms  full  of  split  logs  for  the  fire. 
"  Won't  the  old  boy  have  a  great  time  coming 
from  the  station,  though !  Wish  I  knew  what 
train  he  will  take.  I'd  hitch  up  Mr.  Rogers'  team, 
and  drive  over  for  him." 

"He  won't  get  any  thupper,"  murmured  the 
Lion,  wisely,  as  he  followed  Marjorie  back  and 
forth  from  the  table  to  the  pantry  with  a  suspi- 
cious faithfulness.  "  Thcreth  going  to  be  jelly,  and 
cake,  and  pie,  and  whole  pileth  of  thingth,  Billie." 

"  And  Dora  knows  where  there're  just  piles  of 
popcorn,  and  nuts,  and  candy,  and  she  won't  tell," 
put  in  Winnie,  aggrievedly,  from  her  perch  on  top 
of  the  wood-box  behind  the  stove,  where  she  was 
toasting  herself. 

"I  wish  candy  and  doughnutth  gwowed  on 
twees  like  nutth,  don't  you,  Winnie,"  whispered 
the  Lion,  but  Billie  shook  his  head  at  them 

severely. 

307 


308  Rook's  Nest 

"  Dora's  been  snooking  round,"  he  said.  "  Get 
off  that  wood-box  immediately,  or  else  there'll  be 
a  buried  Owl  under  a  cord  of  logs." 

"  Oh,  dear,  dear,"  laughed  Marjorie,  waving 
both  hands  for  order,  as  Winnie  sent  up  a  howl 
for  mercy.  "  Such  a  menagerie !  Billie,  behave. 
Winnie  wee,  please  get  a  broom,  and  have  Dora 
help  you  sweep  a  nice,  clean  walk  to  the  gate  be- 
fore any  one  comes.  And  don't  any  one  dare  to 
look  into  the  sitting-room." 

"  I  stuffed  the  keyhole,"  said  Billie,  confidently. 
"Say,  Muggins,"  he  added,  as  soon  as  the  men- 
agerie had  fled,  and  he  leaned  over  the  table  mys- 
teriously. "Bet  a  cookie  Bob  comes  home,  don't 
you?" 

Marjorie  set  the  milk  pitcher  down  in  the  middle 
of  the  table  with  a  hard  bump  that  nearly  upset 
its  creamy  contents. 

"  Now,  don't  shut  your  mouth  all  up  screwy  and 
tight,"  Billie  went  on,  hurriedly.  "  I  know  what 
you're  thinking  about,  and  I  wish  she  were  here, 
too,  of  course,  but  as  long  as  she  isn't,  don't  let's 
all  act  as  if  we  were  chewing  tacks  with  red  pepper 
on  them.  It's  Christmas  all  the  same." 

Marjorie  did  not  reply,  but  went  on  preparing 
supper  steadily,  her  eyes  bright  and  tearless. 
Billie  stood  over  by  the  window,  his  hands  deep 
in  his  pockets,  his  feet  wide  apart,  whistling  with 


The  Birds  Fly  Home  309 

a  doleful  attempt  at  cheerfulness.  Each  was 
thinking  of  her  royal  highness  in  their  own  way, 
Marjorie  with  the  old,  tender  love,  and  longing  for 
"  the  one  who  looked  like  mother ; "  Billie  with 
half  resentful  curiosity,  wondering  as  he  always 
did,  why  on  earth  Avis  couldn't  be  sensible  like 
other  folks,  and  not  be  forever  cutting  up  some 
dignified  didoes,  as  he  expressed  it  when  he  and 
the  Lamb  held  solemn  counsel. 

All  at  once  there  came  a  riotous  shout  of  wel- 
come from  the  front  yard,  and  the  menagerie 
rushed  into  the  entry,  escorting  Mrs.  Rogers  and 
Allyn  Keith. 

"  Land  alive,  but  it's  coming  down,"  laughed  the 
former,  shaking  the  big  soft  flakes  from  her  pink 
crocheted  fascinator  that  had  been  one  of  the 
Lamb's  creations  of  artistic  beauty.  "Mother 
Hulda's  shaking  up  the  feather  beds  to-night, 
isn't  she,  chickens  ?  " 

Here  Billie  smuggled  various  bundles  from 
their  hiding-place  beneath  her  shawl,  and  made  a 
stealthy  rush  for  the  front  room  with  the  girls  and 
Reggie  in  full  cry  at  his  heels. 

"Isn't  it  heart  cheering  to  hear  them  when 
they're  so  happy,  though  ? "  said  Mrs.  Rogers, 
with  a  sigh  of  content  "  Did  your  pies  come  out 
all  right,  dear?" 

"  Lovely,"  replied  Marjorie,  raising  one  on  her 


310  Rook's  Nest 

palm  to  show  its  beauties.  '•'  All  flaky  and  brown 
edged." 

Suddenly  Dora  popped  her  head  in  at  the  door. 

"Where's  Mr.  Rogers?"  she  asked,  abruptly. 

"  Maybe  he  won't  be  over,  dear,"  returned  Mrs. 
Rogers,  a  twinkle  in  her  kind,  grey  eyes,  as  she 
tied  on  an  apron  to  help  Marjorie  with  the  supper. 
"It's  right  cold  and  snowy,  you  know,  and  he 
wants  to  bed  the  stock  well,  and  he's  got  a  touch 
of  rheumatism,  too,  and  it's  getting  down  to 
zero." 

"  Oh,  dear,  we  want  him  so,"  began  Dora,  dis- 
consolately. "  Is  Bob  coming  home  ?  " 

Here  a  real  shadow  fell  on  Mrs.  Rogers'  bright, 
happy  face. 

"  I  don't  know,  Dora,"  she  replied,  in  a  troubled 
tone.  "He  hasn't  written  for  nearly  a  week. 
Christmas  won't  seem  Christmas  without  Rob,  but 
we  must  learn  not  to  worry  over  our  waifs,  mustn't 
we,  Marjorie  ?  " 

Marjorie  nodded.  She  could  not  trust  herself 
to  speak  with  the  tears  so  perilously  near  her  eyes, 
so  she  only  smiled  and  went  to  the  door  to  call  the 
menagerie  to  supper.  They  came  trooping  in 
after  Billie,  all  mournful  and  indignant. 

"  It's  drefful,"  said  the  Owl,  as  soon  as  all  were 
seated  at  the  table.  "  We're  only  half  a  family. 
We're  only  got  Mr.  Keith  for  company,  and  Mrs. 


The  Birds  Fly  Home  311 

for  extra.  And  there's  Rob,  and  Mr. 
lii  >giT8,  and  Avis  " 

Billie  tried  to  kick  her  foot  warningly,  but 
missed  it,  and  nearly  knocked  the  centre  leaf  out 
of  the  table.  After  the  excitement  over  the  averted 
catastrophe  had  subsided,  Winnie  went  on  serenely : 

"  And  Avis.  They're  all  away.  And  it's  per- 
f.vtly  dreffuL" 

"  Drefful,"  echoed  the  Lion,  hesitating  between 
an  offer  of  peaeh  preserves  and  strawberry  jam. 

"  Take  which  you  like  best,  Reggie,"  counseled 
])<>r;i,  but  he  shook  his  head  wistfully. 

"  Bofe  are  betht,"  he  said,  sadly. 

Up  at  the  head  of  the  table  sat  Marjorie  and 
Allyn. 

"  Have  you  told  Mr.  Newell  about  finding  your 
uncle's  legacy  yet  ?  "  the  latter  asked,  and  Marjorie 
looked  serious  over  the  question. 

"  Why,  no,  I  haven't,"  she  answered,  quickly. 
"You  see,  we  expected  that  he  would  stay  in 
Chicago  only  one  week,  and  I  thought  I  could  tell 
him  when  he  came  home.  I  wrote  to  Mr.  Ellis  all 
about  it,  you  know,  to  see  if  it  were  right  for  me 
to  keep  it,  and  he  settled  everything  for  me.  The 
money  is  in  the  bank  at  East  Elmore.  I  want  to 
send  Billie  to  college,  and  look  out  for  all  of  them 
now.  Of  course  Uncle  Harvey  has  been  very  kind, 
but  I  shall  be  glad  to  be  independent  of  his  help. 


312  Rook's  Nest 

One  always  feels  that  way,  you  know.  And  I  love 
my  old  Book's  Nest  so  well,  now,  that  I  wouldn't 
care  to  leave  it  for  anything." 

"  Not  even  for  Boston,  and  a  brown  stone  front 
with  Uncle  Harvey  ?  "  called  Billie,  from  his  end 
of  the  table. 

"Not  for  seventeen  and  a  half  brown  stone 
fronts,"  laughed  Marjorie,  and  the  menagerie,  un- 
der Billie's  leadership,  once  more  proclaimed  in 
stentorian  tones  to  the  world  at  large  that  Princess 
Muggins  was  the  best  and  only  brick,  and  that 
they  would  never,  never,  never  leave  Hook's  Nest. 

All  at  once  Dora  jumped  up  from  her  chair,  and 
ran  to  the  door. 

"  I  hear  something  out  there,"  she  exclaimed  in 
an  excited  whisper.  The  Lion  at  once  slid  under 
the  table,  and  selected  Marjorie's  skirts  as  a  place 
of  refuge.  Everybody  listened.  The  front  door 
opened  stealthily,  and  in  the  darkness  a  strange 
looking  figure  could  be  seen  going  into  the  sitting- 
room.  Then  came  a  great  stamping  and  jingling 
of  sleigh  bells  behind  the  closed  doors,  and  Win- 
nie climbed  up  on  the  back  of  her  chair,  her  blue 
eyes  wide  and  startled  at  this  sudden  demonstra- 
tion. The  old  clock  on  the  mantel  struck  eight 
with  its  slow,  creaking  chime. 

"It's  himself,"  whispered  Billie,  pointing  a 
warning  finger  at  the  Owl,  "  and  Winnie  11  get  a 


The  Birds  Fly  Home  313 

turkey  feather,  and  Dora  '11  get  a  chestnut  burr, 
and  Reggie  a  snowstar." 

There  was  a  howl  of  indignant  dissent  at  once, 
and  Dora  proposed  a  hidden  ambush  in  the  hall- 
\vay,  so  that  they  might  all  take  a  look  at  Santa 
Claus  when  he  emerged  from  the  sitting-room. 
They  tiptoed  softly  down  the  entry,  and  snuggled 
into  a  corner,  a  silent,  expectant  group.  Strange 
sounds  could  be  heard  from  the  sitting-room,  and 
the  Owl  kept  one  arm  firmly  around  Reggie,  whose 
valor  and  discretion  were  always  doubtful  in  mo- 
ments of  danger.  At  the  far  end  of  the  hall,  Mar- 
jorie  and  the  rest  watched  the  ambush  with  merry 
faces. 

Suddenly  the  sleigh  bells  jingled  again,  and 
heavy  footsteps  came  toward  the  door. 

"  All  ready,  polliwogs,"  whispered  Billie,  and  as 
the  sitting-room  door  opened  there  appeared  a 
round,  roly  poly  form,  with  a  great  fur  coat  and 
cap  on  that  nearly  hid  all  of  him  except  two 
twinkling  eyes,  and  a  long  white  beard. 

For  an  instant  the  beard  startled  the  menagerie, 
but  Dora  saw  the  eyes,  and  led  the  onslaught  with 
a  shout  of  triumph.  After  a  wild  and  thrilling 
battle,  the  enemy  was  vanquished,  and  led  back 
into  the  sitting-room,  his  fur  cap  gone,  his  white 
beard  trailing  under  the  Owl's  arm,  and  the  Lion 
perched  high  on  his  shoulder. 


3H  Rook's  Nest 

"  We  knew  you  all  the  time,  Mr.  Rogers,"  cried 
the  Lamb,  dancing  first  on  one  foot,  then  on  the 
other.  "Leastways,  anyhow,"  she  corrected  her- 
self, "  we  'spected.  How's  your  rheumatism  ?  " 

"  Everybody  behave,  and  treat  Santa  Glaus  re- 
spectfully," called  Marjorie,  restoring  the  white 
beard  to  its  owner.  "  At  infinite  expense  of  time 
and  labor  he  has  made  his  way  to  Rook's  Nest  to- 
night, and  will  bestow  gifts  on  all  deserving  of  his 
love.  Please  step  right  to  the  tree,  sir,  and  do 
whatever  you  think  best." 

In  the  center  of  the  floor  was  the  tree  that  had 
been  brought  from  the  woods,  but  such  a  trans- 
formed tree !  Its  boughs  were  twined  with  fes- 
toons of  popcorns,  with  tiny  pink  and  blue  bags 
of  candy  dangling  from  the  ends,  and  colored  can- 
dles gleaming  prettily  here  and  there.  Best  of  all, 
any  number  of  mysterious  packages,  all  shapes,  sizes 
and  conditions,  were  suspended  from  the  branches, 
or  heaped  high  around  the  box. 

"Sit  down,  folkses,"  ordered  Billie,  as  self-in- 
stalled master  of  ceremonies.  "Reggie,  get  out 
from  under  the  tree.  Candles  are  not  sticks  of 
peppermint,  my  child.  Mrs.  Rogers  is  to  have  the 
big  chair.  The  Owl  may  perch  on  the  sofa.  Dora, 
you  sit  down  here." 

"I  won't,"  said  the  Lamb,  blandly,  from  her 
point  of  vantage  on  top  of  the  center  table.  "  I 


The  Birds  Fly  Home  315 

shall  stay  right  here,  brother  William.  I  can  see 
more.  You  just  want  this  seat  your  own  self. 
I ,'  •<  >k  out  for  Marjorie." 

"  Oh,  go  ahead,"  said  Marjorie,  who  had  seated 
In  i-st  If  ;it  tho  window  looking  toward  the  ravine. 
"Don't  mind  me." 

"  Are  you  meditating  or  moping  ?  "  asked  Billie, 
anxiously. 

"  Meditating,"  she  answered,  laughingly,  where- 
upon Billie  decided  to  leave  her  in  peace,  as  the 
menagerie  fully  occupied  his  time,  so  he  told  Santa 
Glaus  to  fire  ahead. 

While  the  happy  cries  and  merry  little  shrieks 
of  surprise  sounded  back  of  her,  Marjorie  bent  for- 
ward in  the  dim  shelter  of  the  curtains,  and 
watched  the  road  which  passed  by  the  little  house, 
traveling  on  in  a  happy  go  lucky,  zigzag  way,  un- 
til it  tumbled  over  the  hillside  into  the  dark  depths 
of  the  ravine.  Her  eyes  were  sad  and  thoughtful. 
The  burden  of  the  last  few  months  had  not  lain 
lightly  on  her  shoulders,  although  she  had  tried 
with  nil  her  heart  to  be  her  own  bright,  hopeful 
self ;  but  to-night  she  felt  more  than  ever  how  the 
jolly  careless  ways  of  Billie  and  the  menagerie  had 
deserted  her,  and  how  she  longed  for  the  compan- 
ionship and  sympathy  of  Avis,  not  the  new  Avis, 
but  the  old  one,  as  she  had  been  before  the  com- 
ing of  "  Aunt  Bethiah," 


316  Rook's  Nest 

She  wondered  where  her  royal  highness  was  to- 
night. Probably  she  and  Betty  had  been  invited 
to  some  literary  affair — what  was  it  they  called 
them?  Oh,  yes.  Soirees,  that  was  it.  They 
must  have  gone  to  some  beautiful,  Christmas  Eve 
soiree,  where  they  would  meet  all  manner  of  fa- 
mous people. 

What  would  Avis  wear  ?  She  leaned  her  head 
on  her  hands,  and  pondered,  while  the  voices  be- 
hind her  grew  fainter  and  fainter.  That  grey 
dress  must  be  getting  shabby  by  this  time.  Per- 
haps she  had  a  new  dress.  Something  dainty  and 
rich,  just  for  state  occasions  such  as  this.  Mar- 
jorie  could  shut  her  eyes  and  almost  see  her  as 
she  entered  the  brilliantly  illuminated  apartment, 
and  how  all  the  famous  people  would  ask  each 
other  who  this  new  celebrity  could  be,  this  won- 
derful young  creature  who  moved  and  acted  like  a 
princess. 

It  was  delightful  to  dream  of.  Even  the  Owl 
herself  could  not  have  imagined  a  fairer  dream. 
She  forgot  all  about  the  children  and  the  tree,  and 
the  snow  and  darkness  outside  seemed  to  melt 
away  into  the  gaiety  and  brightness  of  the  city  far 
away,  the  wonderful  city  that  was  to  crown  Avis 
with  the  laurels  of  fame,  and  pour  its  wealth  into 
her  hands. 

Yet,  as  she  thought  again,  she  Avas  half  sorry, 


The  Birds  Fly  Home  317 

because  in  her  new  life  Avis  needed  neither  help 
nor  comfort  from  the  home  Nest  Of  course,  she 
would  never  really  forget  them,  Marjorie  was  sure 
of  that,  no  matter  how  successful  she  became ;  but 
it  was  natural  that  she  should  drift  away  into  her 
own  charmed  circle  and  not  feel  the  close  love 
ties  that  bound  the  rest  together.  And  some  day, 
perhaps 

The  snow  must  be  piling  up  high  in  the  road- 
way, or  else  her  dreams  were  leading  her  fancy 
astray.  She  pressed  her  face  closely  to  the  win- 
dow pane,  and  held  her  breath.  There  was  a 
peculiar  blur  in  the  outlines  beyond  the  gate ;  it 
must  be  the  falling  snow,  only  she  was  sure  she 
caught  a  tinkle  of  sleigh  bells.  She  rose  to  her 
feet  and  took  a  longer  look.  The  gate  opened. 
A  man's  figure,  too  tall  for  Uncle  Harvey,  was  en- 
tering the  garden,  and  behind  him 

Suddenly  Santa  Glaus  and  his  joyous  flock  were 
amazed  to  hear  a  quick,  glad  cry  from  the  window. 
The  curtains  were  thrust  aside  and  Marjorie 
paused  in  their  midst  only  long  enough  to  gasp, 
"  It's  Avis ! "  before  she  rushed  pell  mell  to  the 
front  door,  and  nearly  fell  straight  into  Rob's  arms. 

"  Steady,"  cried  Red  Rover,  righting  her,  laugh- 
ingly, and  reaching  out  to  his  mother's  embrace. 
"  Merry  Christmas,  everybody !  We've  brought 
her  royal  highness  home  again." 


CHAPTER  XXm 
Fairy  Tales  Come  True 

BEHIND  him  stood  Mr.  Newell,  his  arm  around 
Avis,  but  he  gave  her  up  to  Marjorie's  eager  arms 
without  a  word,  while  one  more  figure  hesitated  in 
the  background.  But  Billie  saw  it.  He  looked 
around  quickly.  Rob  was  with  his  mother  and 
father,  laughing  and  shaking  hands.  Marjorie 
had  drawn  Avis  into  the  cosy  sitting-room  before 
the  warm  fire,  and  the  menagerie  had  swooped 
down  upon  Mr.  Newell.  The  stranger  stood  with 
her  back  against  the  door,  shaking  the  snow  from 
her  red  Tarn  O'Shanter,  and  watching  the  general 
reunion  with  happy  eyes. 

"Aren't  you  Betty?" 

She  turned  quickly.  It  was,  it  must  be  Billie. 
She  felt  that  she  would  have  known  the  short 
sturdy  figure,  and  round  freckled  face,  if  she  had 
met  them  in  No  Man's  land,  and  she  gave  his  out- 
stretched hand  a  hearty,  responsive  grasp. 

So  it  happened  that  by  the  time  the  rest  of  the 
newcomers  had  recovered  presence  of  mind  enough 
to  think  of  the  existence  of  Betty,  they  found  her 
318 


Fairy  Tales  Come,  True          319 

seated  on  the  sofa  with  Billie,  getting  acquaint4-<l 
at  a  startlingly  rapid  rate. 

"Never  mind,  now,  Avis,"  Billie  protested,  as 
the  former  started  to  introduce  her  cousin.  "I 
can  manage  that  part  Folkses,  this  is  Betty  Mor- 
gan, and  you  will  all  please  remember  that  I  have 
always  said  she  was  a  brick.  Betty,  the  brown  one 
is  Muggins,  and  the  three  over  there  choking  Uncle 
Harvey  by  slow  degrees,  are  the  only  and  original 
menagerie,  and  Santa  Glaus  is  Mr.  Rogers,  and 
this  is  Mrs.  Santa  Glaus,  and  Bob  is  Santa  Glaus, 
Jr." 

"Just  a  minute,  Billie  boy,"  Mr.  Newell  inter- 
posed. "  Let  me  add  a  little  more  to  that  intro- 
duction." He  laid  his  hand  lovingly  on  Betty's 
brown  hair,  tumbled  and  blown  about  by  the  wind. 
"This  is  also  my  own  dear  daughter,  Bethiah 
Newell,  and  your  cousin,  children." 

It  was  all  as  Winnie  said,  "  honest  true."  After 
the  unexpected  guests  had  been  toasted  and  fed 
with  all  kinds  of  good  things,  every  one  gathered 
in  the  cosy  parlor,  and  there  under  the  shadow  of 
the  Christmas  tree,  were  told  the  wondrous  fairy 
tales  that  had  come  true.  The  tale  of  the  cistern 
ghost,  and  of  Marjorie's  treasure  trove — not  so 
very  much,  of  course,  as  riches  are  reckoned,  but 
enough  to  make  her  feel  strong  and  independent 
and  sure  of  Book's  Nest,  as  she  told  Uncle  Harvey. 


320  Rook's  Nest 

Then  came  Betty's  story,  and  that  was  the  most 
interesting  of  all.  She  told  it  herself,  and  all  the 
children  listened  eagerly,  Billie  and  the  Lamb  with 
a  growing  conviction  that  next  to  Muggins  this 
brown  eyed  young  person  was  the  greatest  brick 
and  all  around  good  fellow  who  had  come  into  the 
kingdom  of  Rattletibang  for  many  a  moon. 

"  It  all  happened  because  I  wanted  Avis  to  have 
that  check,"  began  Betty,  nodding  her  head  at 
them  all,  as  she  sat  on  the  sofa  with  Uncle  Harvey 
bending  over  the  high  carved  back.  "  If  it  hadn't 
been  for  her  story,  I  should  have  been  a  poor, 
lone,  lorn  orphan  this  minute  instead  of  being 
hugged  suddenly  in  the  bosom  of  a  family  all  my 
own.  After  I  got  the  check,  we  went  home  to 
Madame's  " 

"  The  old  darling  who  made  floating  islands  and 
things  ?  "  asked  Dora,  eagerly. 

"Yes.  And,  of  course,  we  found  Avis  gone. 
While  I  was  fussing  around,  and  worrying,  and 
watching  at  the  front  room  windows  for  the  am- 
bulance to  come  with  the  remains,  all  at  once  I 
heard  Mr.  Newell — father,  you  know — exclaim, 
'  Miss  Morgan,  come  here.'  I  was  afraid  he  had 
discovered  the  cracker  boxes  under  the  lounge,  or 
some  hidden  skeleton  of  our  Poverty  Palace.  I 
hurried  to  where  he  stood,  but  all  he  had  was  a 
picture  of  mamma  that  always  sat  on  the  bureau. 


Fairy  Tales  Come  True          321 

I  was  so  surprised  I  couldn't  speak,  until  he 
asked  : 

" '  Where  did  Avis  get  this  picture  ? ' 

" '  Avis  doesn't  know  anything  about  it,'  I  said. 
'  It's  mine — the  portrait  of  my  mother.' " 

"  How  lovely,"  sighed  the  Owl,  and  Betty  was 
at  once  transformed  into  a  beautiful  long  lost 
princess  in  her  eyes. 

"  Then  what  happened  ?  "  urged  Billie. 

"  Then  he  asked  my  name,  and  I  told  him  Betty 
Morgan,  but  that  the  last  was  my  aunt's  name,  not 
my  own.  Then  it  all  came  out  in  a  rush,  about 
Aunt  Felicia,  and  how  mamma  died,  leaving  me  a 
tiny  baby ;  and  then  he  told  me  how  he  was  my 
own  father,  and  had  married  mamma  when  he  was 
only  about  twenty-two,  when  he  was  out  West  here 
on  business  for  his  father  "  

"  That's  Grandpa  Newell,"  whispered  the  Lamb 
to  Billie,  in  an  audible  aside.  "  He  was  a  regular 
old  Tartar." 

"They  were  so  happy  for  awhile,"  went  on 
Betty,  "  and  then  he  had  to  return  East,  and  they 
decidest  the  wisest  plan  was  for  mamma  to  go  to 
her  home  where  Aunt  Felicia  lived,  while  father 
went  and  told  his  parents  he  was  married,  and 
then  he  would  either  send  for  her  to  come  to  Bos- 
ton, or  else  come  back  West  himself,  according  as 
they  took  the  news.  Well,  when  he  reached  Bos- 


322  Rook's  Nest 

ton,  he  found  that  Aunt  Avis  had  married  against 
her  father's  wishes,  and  everything  was  in  a  peck  of 
trouble,  so  he  put  off  telling  of  his  own  affair  from 
day  to  day,  to  spare  his  father  another  shock." 

"  I'm  so  glad  some  one  else  shocked  him  besides 
mamma,"  murmured  the  Lamb,  fervently,  leaning 
forward,  her  chin  on  her  palms. 

"  So  the  time  went  on,  and,  although  he  wrote 
and  wrote  to  mamma,  he  never  heard  a  word  from 
her,  so,  of  course,  Aunt  Felicia  must  have  inter- 
cepted the  letters.  Finally  he  received  a  line  from 
her,  saying  I  had  been  born,  and  both  mamma  and 
I  died,  and  that  she  never  wished  to  hold  any  com- 
munication with  a  Newell  again." 

"Bet  a  cookie  she  was  a  stiff-necked  old  damsel 
all  right,"  chuckled  Billie,  and  at  this  point  Mr. 
Newell  himself  took  up  the  narrative. 

"  So,  you  see,  children,  your  old  stern  uncle  had 
a  burden  to  bear  in  life  that  probably  made  him 
more  reserved,  and  morose,  and  " 

"  All  fwoze  up,"  suggested  the  Lion,  interestedly. 

"  Yes,  that  was  it,"  he  assented,  smilingly,  "  all 
froze  up,  Reggie,  and  so  full  of  the  bitterness  of 
his  own  sorrow  that  he  had  no  sympathy  or  love 
to  share  with  others,  until  Billie's  letter  awakened 
him.  After  Aunt  Bethiah  died  I  believed  I  had  no 
one  of  my  own  people  in  the  world  to  care  for. 
My  immediate  family  were  all  gone,  and  I  knew 


Fairy  Tales  Come  True          323 

nothing  of  Avis,  your  mother,  or  of  her  children, 
since  the  rumor  had  reached  me  of  her  death. 
The  rest  Betty  has  told  you." 

There  was  silence  for  a  minute,  broken  only  by 
the  Lion  choking  as  he  tried  to  swallow  a  whole 
string  of  popcorn,  then  Mr.  Newell  continued  : 

"  Only  one  thing  remains.  Who  will  return  to 
Boston  with  Betty  and  me  ?  " 

No  one  spoke  a  word,  but  they  all  looked  at 
Marjorie.  Her  face  flushed  warmly  under  the  fire 
of  anxious  scrutiny,  but  she  answered  as  Billie 
and  the  menagerie  knew  she  would : 

"We  love  Rook's  Nest  best,  Uncle  Harvey. 
You  have  been  so  kind  and  generous  to  us,  but 
you  have  Betty,  now,  so  you  won't  be  lonely.  We 
all  want  to  stay  here,  unless  Avis  " 

"  Please  let  me  stay,  too,"  said  Avis,  in  a  low 
tone.  "  I  do  not  care  to  run  away  again." 

The  circle  of  heads  around  Marjorie  bobbed  in 
grave  assent,  and  Mr.  Newell  laughed,  as  he  re- 
moved his  eye-glasses  to  polish  them  thoughtfully. 

"  Then  if  the  mountain  won't  come  to  Mahomet, 
Mahomet  must  go  to  the  mountain,  eh,  Betty  ?  I 
daresay  that  even  you  would  rather  join  forces 
with  this  independent  and  rebellious  family  than 
go  away  to  Boston  with  only  your  old  father  for 
company." 

Betty  had  an  inward  struggle  with  he  frank  in- 


324  Rook's  Nest 

clination  to  remain  right  where  she  was,  and  the 
new  love  that  bade  her  stand  loyal  to  her  father. 
At  last  she  replied,  with  a  deep  sigh : 

"  I'd  go  with  you  anywhere,  father,  to — to  Mad- 
agascar, even,  if  you  said  so ;  but  if  the  mountain 
could  get  up  and  trot  west,  it  would  be  splendid." 

"Just  so,"  returned  Mr.  Newell,  decidedly.  "I 
think  it  will  have  to  trot.  Most  of  my  business 
interests  are  centered  now  in  Chicago,  and  all  of 
my  heart  interests  here  in  Book's  Nest.  Since 
Princess  Muggins  defies  me,  and  all  of  her  sub- 
jects follow  suit,  I  have  but  one  alternative.  Betty 
and  I  will  have  to  build  us  a  castle  of  our  own  out 
here  in  the  wild  west,  and  keep  you  all  under  our 
protection.  Mr.  Rogers,  do  you  think  we  could 
find  a  few  odd  hills  and  ravines  for  sale  ?  " 

"  Miles  of  them,"  answered  Santa  Claus,  heartily. 
"  Prettiest  land  in  the  state." 

"Then  we  will  settle  in  East  Elmore,"  Mr. 
Newell  declared.  "  I  have  already  taken  the  lib- 
erty of  investing  a  little  of  your  share  of  the 
Newell  fortunes,  children,  in — in  real  estate." 

Marjorie  and  Avis  exchanged  quick  glances  of 
surprise,  and  Billie  stared. 

"  City  real  estate,"  he  continued,  a  smile  on  his 
genial  face.  "  In  fact,  Mr.  Ellis,  your  lawyer  and 
I  have  recovered  possession  of  a  valuable  piece  of 
property,  the  old  Randall  home." 


Fairy  Tales  Come  True          325 

"  Uncle  Harvey !  "  exclaimed  all,  in  one  breath, 
and  Dora  rose  precipitately  to  embrace  him. 

"One  at  a  time,"  he  laughed,  with  uplifted 
hand.  "  I  thought  you  would  all  approve.  You 
can  take  up  winter  quarters  there,  if  you  like,  and 
in  summer  come  back  to  Book's  Nest  While 
Betty  and  I  are  waiting  for  our  castle  to  rise,  may 
we  ask  permission  to  make  our  home  with  you  for 
awhile?" 

"  Oh  !  fine !  "  cried  all  the  children  in  chorus. 

"And  Billie  must  go  to  college,"  added  Mr. 
Newell. 

"  Geewollikins,  that's  the  way  it  always  ends 
up,"  exclaimed  William,  aggrievedly.  "Muggins 
is  just  as  bad.  You  all  plan  a  pile  of  jolly  things, 
and  then  say,  '  Billie  must  go  to  college.'  Want 
to  pack  me  off  to  cram,  and  wear  choker  collars, 
and  part  my  hair  in  the  middle,  and  kill  myself 
playing  football,  while  you  have  a  circus  of  a  time. 
That's  what  they  do  with  a  fellow !  Keep  him  a 
nice,  good  little  boy,  until  he  does  get  old  enough 
to  have  a  good  time  in  his  own  way,  and  then 
smother  him  in  books,  and  bury  him  alive  in 
college.  Uncle  Harvey,  Muggins  needs  a  man 
around  the  house." 

Uncle  Harvey's  eyes  twinkled  shrewdly  as  he 
glanced  over  to  where  Allyn  Keith  sat  beside  Mar- 
jorie,  the  Lion  on  his  knee,  heroically  submitting 


326  Rook's  Nest 

while  the  latter  decked  him  with  popcorn  and 
tinsel. 

"I  know  that,  Billie  boy,"  he  said,  gravely, 
"  but  I  wouldn't  worry  much  about  that  phase  of 
the  question  if  I  were  you.  From  a  little  side 
talk  which  I  enjoyed  with  Allyn  once,  I  imagine 
that  the  post  of  man  about  the  house  is  already 
spoken  for,  is  it  not,  Marjorie  ?  " 

Marjorie  blushed  hotly  at  the  sudden  disclosure, 
but  met  the  charge  with  all  her  old  honest  direct- 
ness. 

"  Some  day,  Uncle  Harvey,  'way  off." 

"  Well,  of  all  measly,  one-sided  arrangements," 
exclaimed  Billie,  wrathfully.  "After  the  way 
we've  all  stood  by  Marjorie  through  thick  and 
thin !  And  now  Mr.  Keith,  you  think  you  can 
take  her  away !  Why  didn't  you  ask  my  con- 
sent?" 

He  paused,  for  all  save  the  menagerie  were 
laughing.  The  Lion  had  promptly  deserted  Al- 
lyn at  Billie' s  first  words,  and  now  all  four  stood 
in  a  row  staring  in  stern  reproach  at  the  two  cul- 
prits. 

"  Billie,  listen,"  Allyn  rose,  too,  and  faced  his 
inquisitor.  "It  wasn't  quite  fair,  I  know,  but  we 
thought  you  knew  and  approved  all  the  time." 

"  All  what  time  ?  "  demanded  the  elder  brother, 
his  head  on  one  side,  his  hands  plunged  deep  into 


Fairy  Tales  Come  True          327 

their  favorite  resting-places.  "Since  when  has 
this  been  going  on  ?  " 

"  Since  the  day  in  the  barn,  I  guess,  when  I  first 
saw  Princess  Muggins,"  and  Allyn's  tone  was 
more  serious  now.  "  But  at  all  events,"  he  went 
on,  "whenever  it  may  happen,  I  shall  only  be 
prince  consort,  you  know,  and  the  princess  is  al- 
ways your  same  dear  Marjorie." 

"  Always,"  interposed  Marjorie,  positively,  "  and 
we  beg  that  you  will  never  desert  the  Nest,  Billie, 
or  lead  a  revolt  and  all  take  to  the  woods ;  be- 
cause Winnie  never  could  live  in  a  cave  on  grass- 
hoppers and  cocoanuts,  and  the  Lion  is  afraid  of 
bugs,  and  toads,  and  crawly  things,  and  you  and 
Dora  would  look  so  funny  dressed  in  wolf  skins 
and  eagle  feathers,  and  trying  to  shoot  the  wild, 
wicked  bees  on  the  wing.  So  we  beg  that  you 
will  be  true  and  loyal  Rattletibaugers  for  ever  and 
ever." 

The  Owl  sighed,  and  wavered. 

"It's  drefful,  of  course,"  she  began,  helplessly, 
"  but  as  long  as  it's  Muggins  " 

"  They  ought  to  have  asked  us  about  it,"  added 
the  Lamb,  with  a  last  faint  stand  for  Billie,  "  but 
as  long  as  it's  Mr.  Keith  " 

Billie  saw  at  once  that  he  would  be  left  alone 
in  another  moment,  and  capitulated. 

"  Take   her,  my   son,"  he   said,  solemnly.     "  If 


328  Rook's  Nest 

you  ever  need  a  friend,  remember  your  brother 
William,  Muggins.  Never  can  tell  what  may  hap- 
pen when  folks  get  married.  Not  but  what  you're 
a  good  sort,  Mr.  Keith,  but  I  always  had  hopes 
you  would  be  the  one  to  make  her  royal  highness 
stop  cutting  up  her  didoes.  However,  Rob's  made 
a  good  beginning  in  that  way — now,  don't  talk 
back,  Avis.  Betty,  keep  her  serene,  please — so  I 
will  withdraw  all  opposition,  and  say,  bless  you, 
my  children.  Polliwogs,  attention !  " 

And  while  all  the  rest  of  the  happy  company 
stood  up,  and  cheered  joyously,  the  menagerie 
danced  their  old  time  Feejee  dance  of  triumph 
around  the  tree,  and  sang  their  battle  song,  for  the 
love  and  honor  of  Princess  Muggins,  and  her 
castle. 

"  For  we'll  never,  never,  never, 
No,  we'll  never,  never,  never, 
Oh,  we'll  never,  never,  never 
Leave  our  blessed  Book's  Nest." 


THE  END 


110816 


